


Brethren

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-18
Updated: 2006-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here we begin an AU featuring Dom and Viggo, but others to come, set in 18th century America. It was inspired jointly by my coursework in the American colonies and by the amazing "Abomination," written by my fantastic beta, saura_.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little historical context for those who aren't familiar with the period—Bethlehem, Pennsylvania was a settlement established in 1740 by a group of German Moravians, mainly from a community called Hernnhut. Much of the necessary details about Bethlehem and Moravian practice will be revealed throughout the story, but the basic idea is that Bethlehem was a closed community with somewhat unusual and progressive religious practices. The Moravians lived and raised children community, and segregated living based on age, sex, and marital status. Married couples did not live together, and the nuclear family unit was virtually non-existent. Since sex is an issue that will come up fairly soon in the story and is part of my fascination with this community, I should explain a bit—the Moravians were liberal in their allowances of sex within marriage, much more open about discussing sex, and even set aside a certain time and place for relations to occur between spouses. All sexual practice was to take place within the confines of a marriage, but as sex was considered sacred and parallel to the personal relationship with Jesus Christ, it was more highly tolerated than by, for example, the Lutherans. The actual physical act of sex would be explained to a couple that was to be married in advance, and discussion was welcome on the topic. Being single was also a valid choice, though not a common one, and there needed to be a reason to remain single. So there's your brief introduction to Moravia!

      The wind whipped warm in Dominic Monaghan's face as he stood on the upper deck of the ship, enjoying a rare warm and sunny day as the party finally left the Mediterranean and journeyed out into the open ocean. His skin felt red and raw from the exposure, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the swell of the waves or go below deck where he wouldn't feel the soft rustle of his shirt against his chest. The trip from the mountains where he lived to a seaport to the south had been long, and sometimes he wondered if this was all worth it, but as long as he could stand here on the deck and watch the world go by, he felt a sense of adventure that couldn't be calmed.

      The year was 1747. Dominic was just eighteen years old, a robust young lad and clearly fit for the journey overseas to the Americas. Born to British parents in Bavaria, he was fluent in both English and German from a young age, a skill that would be useful as a missionary in the new colonies overseas. His spiritual education had been put into the hands of the Moravians when he was eight, and the teachings of that community appealed to him. He lived in a small Moravian community in the heart of Bavaria, and it was there that he received his spiritual education as a member of the young boys' "choir," or Moravian living group. Lessons on the Bible and basic academics were taught by an older male supervisor, and children lived in gender segregated communal housing where they did chores, worked, and were educated as a group. He made friends easily among the group, and though he was fairly obedient to his elders, he was also a favourite among the boys, who looked up to Dominic as a foreigner and therefore worldly in some sort. His sense of humour, sensitivity, and generosity endeared him to others, and he enjoyed this treatment much more than he had liked life in a secular village when he was very young. The other boys in this neighbourhood has been much rougher, and looked down upon him for his love of books and investigation of the styles of the days in the shop windows. He was called a number of names he preferred to forget, but things were different when he joined the Moravians.

      By the time he was twelve, though he had been baptised originally in the Anglican Church, he was re-baptised and fully committed to the spiritual community. His parents, who entrusted him to the Moravians but did not join the community themselves, became a marginal part of his life, which was not unusual given the communal style of childrearing in the village. Therefore it was the other boys with whom he was closest, and it was in them and in the supervisor that he trusted most. At twelve, he was moved into the older boy's choir, where the boys aged twelve to seventeen were even more serious and engaged in their studies. He learned the intricacies of Moravian doctrine, including the importance of an emotional relationship with Christ, the idea of late marriage by lot, and the somewhat liberal idea of marriage as a sacrament with ritualized sex being a part of community life. He watched the members of the married choir disappear into the Schlafshallen for an hour at a time, and like all boys was somewhat curious about what would happen when an older married couple explained to him and his intended how they would enjoy their rights of marriage in the eyes of Christ. He didn't feel particularly strongly towards a female member of the congregation, but he had quite awhile before he had to worry about that, and he knew the lot would choose for him the wife that Christ wanted him to have. Occasionally, he felt stirrings of what might be described in modern terms as attraction towards another boy in the choir, but physical affection was not shunned in Moravian society, and if the traditional greeting at church of a kiss between friends occasionally set a little flutter in motion in Dominic's stomach, he wasn't too concerned. Emotional response, after all, was a natural part of spiritual health and an important way of relating to his brethren and sisters.

      At eighteen, when he reached the age to leave the children's choir and join the Single Brethren Choir, a group from his village was embarking on a voyage, a long and difficult trip to America. They would join there with their Brethren and Sisters in the newly established Bethlehem colony in Pennsylvania, and help in the important task of converting the heathen and expanding their teachings. Supervisors of the older boys and girls choirs, as well as the Single and Married choirs, chose representatives that best make the voyage and were considered to be fit for embarking on missions. Dominic, who was both healthy and charismatic (an important trait for the mission of conversion), spoke English (the principal language at the time in the colonies), and was conveniently just at the age of adulthood, was quickly chosen. Though he was sad to leave some of his friends who had just moved up with him, he was also ripe for adventure and change. He set out on the voyage with light baggage, but a full heart, ready to encounter whatever America was to give him. If God wished his path to extend across the ocean, so it would be, and he awaited whatever challenges would follow with open arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our hero, number two. Chapter one teaches us some more about the Moravians, and about one of the Bethlehem community's most attractive family members, Mister Viggo Mortensen. Wherein Dom is adorable and English, and Viggo says very little of his presumably interesting past.

 

      It was a sunny, fairly warm afternoon when Viggo left the town of Bethlehem to meet the newcomers, fresh off the boat from German lands.

      They had been delayed one week by squalls, but a scout announced that today would be the day of their arrival, and as supervisor of the Single Brethren Choir, it was his job to greet the newcomers and welcome them to life in Bethlehem. Many had married before immigrating, but some of the younger immigrants had travelled alone to join the Single Brethren and Sisters in Bethlehem.

      Viggo smiled at the wide-eyed curiosity of the young people who were pulled to the shore in canoes, looking very run-down from the trip but looking about them in rapt fascination at the woods that lined the bank. The ship had come into harbour in Raritan Bay, the closest point at which it could dock. From there it was a couple hour's ride west to Bethlehem, a trip that would be made by several carriages brought from the town for the travellers and their luggage. Viggo himself had come on horseback to lead the caravan, and when he reached the shore he tied his steed loosely to a tree and approached the incoming canoes on foot.

      Although all property in Bethlehem was communal, no one ever begrudged Viggo the use of Schwarzefee, a beautiful chocolate-coloured stallion that tended to be a bit wild around the other brethren, but calmed instantly under the soothing low tones of Viggo's Danish murmurs.

      Viggo, who was born in the New York colony, had lived with Moravians since 1733, and it had been decided by the elders that rather than married life, he was best suited to be a spiritual leader to the young single men in the Single Brethren Choir. He enjoyed his role in the community, and had also been successful in many converting missions to the Delaware in the Ohio country. His calm, patient manner appealed to the suspicious natives, and his thorough understanding of church practice made him an ideal candidate for explaining his religion to native populations.

      Although he had at times questioned his faith in youth, he had emerged a strong believer and thoroughly agreed with the Moravian interpretation of the Bible. And as he stood waiting for these young people to disembark with their trunks and other belongings, he smiled knowingly, thinking about the years to come.

      He hoped that through his instruction he would find some young single men and women who would join him on converting missions, and he was optimistic about the prospects. It took a certain type of person to be an evangelizer—someone well versed in Moravian traditions, steadfast in his belief in Christ, and also understanding of native traditions.

      Viggo had lived among the natives, and knew more about them than most Christians. He understood their spiritual and cultural practices, and had even participated in their rituals on occasion. Though Christ was always in his heart, Viggo saw no harm in incorporating native medicinal and spiritual practices into his own life as a servant of Christ. Herbal remedies had helped him with several almost ill fated pregnancies among white women in the community, and due to his reputation as a healer, the Moravian community choose to overlook his slightly unorthodox methods.

      He knew from experience that patience would help him to find the most open-minded and faithful single brethren among the newcomers to the choir, and it would be these who would accompany him. These were the young men on to whom he could pass his knowledge, and hopefully one or two would develop such a strong interest that they could carry on his missions on their own, after he was gone.

      These were the hope for the preservation of the community, and so Viggo watched with smiling and wistful eyes as the newcomers climbed ashore.

~~~~~~

 

      Half of an hour after the German immigrants and their new American brethren and sisters arrived on the shore, all the trunks were packed up into the waiting carriages and ready to go. However, when everyone had boarded the carriages there seemed to be one small problem.

      "Well then, mate. I'm Dominic Monaghan. Looks like I'll be going along with you." Viggo gave the slight blonde man a quizzical look, but took the proffered hand and shook.

      "What about your luggage?" Viggo asked as Dominic strode off towards his tied horse with purpose.

      "I haven't any."

      "None?"

      "Nothing of consequence. I have the clothes on my back," he reasoned. "I have my Bible." Dominic patted the pocket of a slightly worn jacket and Viggo smiled.

      "A true man of the Lord, then."

      "Of course," he replied with a shrug. "Isn't everyone here?"

      "You'd be surprised," Viggo answered, smiling again. Viggo set to untying the beast as Dom stroked its nose affectionately. "If everyone was a perfect Christian, Dominic, we wouldn't need education." Dominic cocked his head, considering, and nodded finally. Viggo gestured to the horse, and the younger man mounted first, allowing Viggo to swing his leg gracefully over the saddle behind Dominic. "So Monaghan? That's not a very German name."

      "No, it's not," Dominic confirmed as they pulled into step behind the carriages, bringing up the rear guard for the return trip. This part of Pennsylvania was relatively safe country, but the Moravians were not well-liked by some of the other Germans, nor by the British or Scots-Irish, and safety was key to survival. "I'm English."

      "I thought you might be, since you didn't introduce yourself in German. But then, I speak English, and I'm certainly not English."  
        
"What are you, then?"

      "My parents were Danish. I was born here, well, in New York."

      "What did you do there?"

      "I was a town doctor…I still do some healing here, in Bethlehem, though the needs of the community are different from those of New York."

      "What was it like in the city, then?"

      "Well a lot of the same thing. Travellers came through, especially, of course many fresh of the boats from Europe, or moving North or South along the coast. There were a lot of diseases from the ships, mostly incurable, but I could at least help lessen their pains. Some minor injuries, that sort of thing, but fewer major injuries than in the country."

      "Did you like your work?"

      "I did. There was one case, though, that I remember most vividly. I was thirty, and a group came into the city from the far North. One of their company had caught smallpox, and I gave him a medicinal remedy to ease the pain, but I expected very little. I had seen cases like this before, and he would be sure to die within a few weeks. I told his companions this, but they headed my warnings little. They simply sat by their friend's side as I administered what care I could, and calmly prayed for his recovery. As I worked, I learned of the men's story. They had come from a religious community in Greenland, which was experiencing little success. They headed south in an attempt to find more populations of native peoples to convert, and when I met them they had already gone very far. The ship took them just to Boston, and then they were on their own, too poor to afford carriage hire, forced to travel on foot. In all honesty, after such a hard journey, someone as sick as this man was should have been dead. But the weeks went by, and his condition did not worsen, but in fact improved. Their was a light in his eyes, and though I did what I could, it was clear that the result was no triumph of mine. This was the work of the Lord, Dominic, and I have never forgotten it."

      "He recovered?"

      "Fully. Six weeks later he was as good as new. I spent those weeks talking with the travellers, learning not only their story but also their beliefs. I had been going to the Dutch Reformed Church, but I admit I never felt fully possessed by the spirit of Christ."

      "But why? If you went to church then, how can it be different than now?"

      "I didn't trust in my faith then, Dominic. I felt spited by the Lord, somehow. I know now that I was wrong, but I never felt cut out to be a Christian, I suppose. I did some things in my youth, some things I regret. But that's no matter. For seven years, we studied and prayed together. They were German Moravians, and they taught me German and more importantly, their beliefs. I can't describe what happened exactly, but after three years of careful study, I had this experience—I felt the love of Christ in my heart, and it was if I was renewed, forgiven for all my past transgressions. I was baptized then in the Hudson River, and I committed my life to Christ. When some Moravians from the Georgia settlement came to Bethlehem seven years ago, we heard news of it and made the trip to meet them. I helped build the town, and when the community was established, I was elected by the lot to supervise the youngest Single Brethren Choir."

      "And you've been doing it ever since?"

      "Indeed."

      "Well I guess that makes you my supervisor, then."

      "I suppose it does." Dominic smiled, and they rode on in companionable silence for the rest of the trip, the gentle pounding of the horse's hooves a soothing soundtrack to the beginning of a journey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we learn just a bit more of Viggo's past, giggle at Dom's close-mindedness, and wonder when the pretty boys are going to make out. (Patience, patience).

      Dominic's first week in Bethlehem went very smoothly. It was a lot like home, apart from the surroundings—he attended daily choir meetings, pitched in with the communal work, and prayed with his brethren. A couple of the immigrants from Germany arrived with mild illnesses from the boat, and he found himself appointed as a sort of helper while Viggo healed them. Viggo was very patient, not only using him as an assistant but teaching what he knew about the herbs used and the remedies practiced. One day, after watching Viggo prepare a wrap for a deep cut one man had gotten in the fields, he was helping replace some herbs in a collection of small glass phials Viggo had carefully labelled when something struck him.   
      "Viggo, where did you learn these techniques, precisely? I don't remember seeing anyone healed by herbs in this way back at home."

      "That's because these techniques don't exist at home, Dominic. I learned these techniques from the natives."

      "Natives?" Dominic asked, a bit shakily, his fingers slightly clumsy as he sorted out the roots he was given. He shuddered as he pictured an Indian teaching Viggo how to use these herbal remedies—he had not yet seen a native himself, sheltered as he was in Bethlehem, and though he knew Viggo had gone on the missions, it was quite another thing to picture Viggo actually being taught by these wild, frightening men. He had always assumed the white man was the only teacher in this sort of exchange.

      "Dominic. Why do you pale so? I fear you are judging too quickly in your heart."

      "But Viggo… they're… Indians. They stand to learn from us, and we have the responsibility to teach them, but is it not dangerous to allow them to school you in their medicine, and then to apply it to Christians? Is this not the devil's work? I fear for you, friend." Viggo sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes briefly before reaching out and clasping Dominic's shoulder with a strong hand.

      "Your mind is well-directed, my young friend. Perhaps too-well directed, however. Will you listen to my story before making such rash judgements?" Dom nodded slowly, a little embarrassed, but still frightened by the implications of what Viggo might be telling. "Right, then," Viggo began, returning to his work with a practiced patience and skilled hands. "When I was a boy, I used to go out into the fields at harvest season. We didn't have much, and though I was lucky enough to be taken up as an apprentice by a kind and generous doctor when I was older, at that point in my childhood I needed to work in the fields to help supplement my father's meagre income and provide for my family. Some days, the work would be done quickly, and so I would escape to the woods where a nearby Iroquois tribe lived.

      "To an Indian village?"

      "Yes. I befriended a little boy there, and we communicated in signs. Slowly, after several harvest seasons passed, I learned the tribe's language and was able to find out about their culture. My little friend's father was a shaman, and he let me watch some of the less private sacred healing practices."

      "Like a witch doctor?" Dom paled, his fingers twitching slightly again before he placed them on the wooden table to steady himself.

      "I suppose you might call it that," Viggo replied softly with an unreadable smile. "He was an amazing man, this shaman. They called it miracle healing, I call it the grace of God, but either way I learned much through him. Later, when I was grown, I continued to venture into the country to learn practices that would aid my own work as a doctor. My experiences among the natives have aided me much in my life here, in converting."

      "But don't the natives resist your attempts?"

      "Natives and white men are not so black and white as you see them now, Dominic. The natives see the world differently than we do, but not entirely. There are common points. The Indians care for their children, and they see their communities disgraced by violence and alcohol. They are suspicious of us at first, but they turn to us to maintain their community. They see that the ways of the Lord are powerful, and they come to us. But I see it also as a reciprocal exchange."

      "I don't think I understand." Dominic bit his lip, concentrating more on Viggo's words now than the task he was performing.

      "The key to mission work is patience, and understanding. We give things to the Indians, yes, and we teach them Christ's name. But I believe that they already felt His presence long before a white man set foot on their soil. How else do you explain the effectiveness of their medicine? Do you remember when I told you about how the man in New York experienced a miracle healing?" Dominic nodded silently in recognition. "Well, I do believe that he was healed by the grace of God, and most of what I did was only for his comfort, but what I did not relay to you is that he would have been lost if it were not for Indian techniques. I used a very old Indian remedy on that man, and said some prayers over him in their native tongue…"

      "But that's blasphemy!" Dominic exclaimed, shocked at the story of his new mentor. Viggo smiled as if he were telling the story to a confused child, and just shook his head slowly.

      "Just because a prayer is said in a native tongue, with native methods, does not mean it is not a manifestation of the same Lord we white men worship. There are more similarities than you realize, Dominic. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to experience them firsthand, when you are ready." Dominic nodded, looking perplexed, and Viggo smiled as they reached the longhouse where the single brethren resided. "It is almost suppertime," Viggo pointed out. "Perhaps we can pray about this later," he suggested, and Dominic just nodded again, a brief "okay" gracing his lips before he entered the building. He was going to have a lot to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic makes a new friend and learns to fit in a little more.

     Dominic scowled to himself as he ladled the quickly cooling broth into his mouth. He knew he was behaving a bit like a child, being so standoffish around the other boys, but he couldn't help himself. Almost everyone there was a German, and though Dominic spoke German fluently and had lived among Germans his entire life, he suddenly felt like he didn't belong. Since he had been in Bethlehem, he had done as he was told, participating in everything he was expected to, but he didn't go out of his way to meet companions. Many of the people who had been on the ship seemed a little childish to him, and those who had lived in Bethlehem all their lives were somehow separated from his own experience, sheltered even. He supposed he could make more of an effort to talk to them, but if he did, what exactly would he talk about?

      As he bit down on a piece of cabbage, he thought back on his conversation with Viggo, and realised that it bothered him more than he preferred to let on. Viggo was one of the few people in this community that really interested him, but the things he had alluded to sounded quite dangerous to Dominic, and not quite in synch with the teachings he had come to believe. Indian medicine? That was the sort of thing one heard in children's stories about witch doctors and fierce, evil warriors with skin red as burnt clay and the blood of the Devil burning in their hearts.

     But Viggo spoke of these wild, virile men as one would speak of a brother; a companion. Dominic knew that as members of a Christian community they were expected to convert the natives, and even live with them to achieve their goal, but somehow this reciprocal exchange was not what he had expected.

     It was a means to an end, right? Not an end in and of itself. The Moravians had to live with Indians in order to achieve their goal of conversion, and this interaction was a necessary evil. But Dominic didn't understand what Viggo seemed to be implying—that one could actually learn from those savages that all propaganda taught Europeans to disdain, or at least pity, as less than themselves. Viggo didn't treat the savages as a tool, a vehicle to salvation, but rather as people that could teach him something about healing. This was new to Dominic, and now he didn't know what to believe.

      "_Schuldigung. Setzt jemanden hier?_" Dominic looked up, snapped out of his reverie, and shook his head, barely glancing up from his bowl. He gestured to the seat across from him and the newcomer beamed, taking a seat and hungrily tucking in the soup and coarse bread as if it were his last meal. "_Wie heissen Sie?_" he mumbled around a piece of bread, and Dominic bit back a smile at the spectacle. The stranger's dark brown hair was mussed, his shirt collar slightly out of place, and his blue eyes wild and unrestrained. It was the opposite of what he had grown to expect from a Moravian, but then, he reasoned, America seemed to be full of surprises.

      "Dominic Monaghan."

      "_Das ist nicht eine deutsche Name_."

      "No, it isn't a German name at all," Dominic affirmed. "My parents are from England, but I lived in the Rheinland my whole life… oh I'm sorry, you do speak English, right?"

      The other man nodded and stuck out a hand enthusiastically. "Elijah Wood. It's such a pleasure to meet you, Dominic. These Germans are nice, but it's never half bad to hear a familiar tongue, don't you think?"

     Dominic merely nodded, taking another sip of his soup. The man spoke perfect English, but he didn't have a British accent. Didn't have an accent at all, really, in fact his tone was shockingly neutral, almost a bit like Viggo's.

      "You were born here, I assume?" Dom asked, making the connexion as the other took another hungry slurp of soup. Elijah nodded vigorously in response to Dominic's question, then his eyes darted around quickly and he dabbed his mouth with a grin, unexpected in comparison to his quite crude method of consumption. Dominic smiled back, though, when he realized that the action was simply a mockery, and the young lad went back to slurping down his soup in ignorance of the haughty looks of those sitting nearby.

      "My grandparents were Brits, but my parents were born here," Elijah continued in answer to Dominic's question.

      "In Pennsylvania?"

      "No, on the Chesapeake."

      Dom raised an eyebrow in surprise, idly trailing his spoon through the bowl as he focused more on the conversation than his own nourishment. "How did you come to move here, then?"

      "Well, my parents died when I was young. Ironically, they were actually journeying to Bethlehem with the Moravians who came up from Georgia, hoping to keep me in line a bit."

      "And did it work?" Dominic asked, suppressing a grin. His companion laughed heartily and shook his head.

      "Not at all, my friend. Not in the slightest. But it also wasn't quite as simple as all that. Their death actually came right after arrival, both of them from a disease that no one really recognized."

      "Oh, I'm sorry mate."

      "Thanks." Elijah paused for a moment, his eyes lowering, but the cloud in his features disappeared soon enough and he returned to his story. "In any event, at the time I was eleven, and an orphan. I ran into the woods; didn't really want to be trapped here."

      "Trapped how?"

      "Well I didn't have much respect for the rules at that point, I guess. Still don't," Elijah added with a grin and a wink. "Either way, I didn't want to be stuck in this society at the time, especially without my parents. So I fled, made for the frontier."

      "But the Moravians got you back?"

      "Not immediately. I got very, very lost. Probably would have died, but an Indian woman found me and brought me to her village. Great thing about the natives, is they would never abandon a child in danger. They care too much about children—in their religion, a child is actually a model for adults, so it's sort of a sacred thing. I wouldn't disagree with them, either. I mean, it makes sense, even in Christian terms. Jesus always did love the little children, right?"

      "Wait, so you were captured by Indians, then?" Dominic's eyes went wide, never expecting a story like this to come out of such an innocent-looking blue-eyed boy. Elijah's skin, after all, was pale and unmarred by scars, and he looked much younger than his age, as if he could still be in the children's choir. Dominic would easily believe that he'd never done a day of hard labour in his life, and he had none of the signs of a former captive, besides.

      "No!" The other man frowned; Dominic was obviously missing the point. "I wanted to go. I loved it there, in their village. Lived there till I was fourteen, and learned all sorts of stuff that they would never teach you here." Dominic was now the one to frown, obviously sensing blasphemy in his words, but he didn't speak. "My friend… you have no idea. Well you might have some idea, working with Viggo… " He winked and Dominic just frowned again.

     "How do you know that I work with Viggo?"

     "He told me himself." Dominic just stared, but Elijah didn't seem to want to dwell on the point. "Anyway, that's not the point. When I was fourteen, Viggo actually came to my village, with some others."

      Dominic nodded, starting to put the pieces together, and let Elijah continue.

      "And Viggo… he has a way with words. He convinced me that baptism was right for me. He didn't tell me that what I had learned was wrong, told me about different kinds of spirituality. It made sense, in a way, and others from the village were converting anyway. He told me that he'd make sure that I could always return to nature when I needed to, escape the village and all that. He told me that he needs that himself, sometimes."

      "And you didn't find it stifling at all, after living in the woods? No offence, but from what I can tell you don't seem to like the village all that much."

      "Yeah, well you've been here a week, surely time to observe Viggo's style of supervision?" Dominic just nodded, and wondered a bit at the mischievous gleam in the other's eye. "He's hardly a parental figure. I don't feel trapped, really. As long as I can stay in the single choir, I'm happy." Dominic wondered at this young man, the first he had met who did not seem to have a genuine interest in marriage and partnership with a female, but didn't comment, allowing his companion to direct the conversation. "But enough about me. You're the new one! I'm curious. You said you've lived your whole life in Prussia?"

      "Aye."

      "Did you like it there?"

      "I did, but it was time for a change."

     "I think I might like to go one day. Maybe not Prussia, but somewhere overseas at least. I have British ancestery, so maybe I'd like it there."

     "You may like it indeed, then. I've never even been to England, despite being English."

     "Didn't your parents tell you about it?  
"  
     "A bit, yeah. Though I can't imagine you there." He smiled as Elijah shifted from side to side in his chair, food finally forgotten for the time being.

     "I don't see why not," he answered, slightly indignantly, and Dominic simply smiled.

     "No, mate, I don't mean it in a condescending way, not at all. England's not so good as all that, is all. The trees are almost all cut down, and there's very little open land left. You're quite the restless spirit, aren't you mate?" Elijah giggled and nodded, annoyance forgotten as soon as it had come, beaming as if he had been given a very high compliment.

      "In any case, I imagine America's just the place for such a disposition. Europe's nothing but rules and regulations sometimes, especially when you're from such a station in life as mine," Dom pointed out, staring into his bowl for a moment.

      "Ah." The other man's eyes lowered as well, seemingly embarrassed, and he quickly cleared his throat. "Well you may have me right, then… I can't imagine not having open lands to explore and the ability to roam free whenever I please. Even so, a lot of that can't be done with the structure of Bethlehem. At least, not officially." Again, the gleam shone in Elijah's eyes, and Dominic was slightly nervous. "Don't worry yourself about that though, not just yet. Best to stay on everyone's good side whilst you're new. Still, there are opportunities. Viggo never broke his promise to me, after all. Outside, on the frontier… " Elijah grinned distantly, a reflective gleam turning his eyes the brightest of blue as he focused on a point in space and lost the conversation for a moment. Then, as quick as he had spaced out, he recovered his train of thought and turned that bright smile on his companion. "Have you ever ridden horses, Dominic?"

      "No, I can't say I have. Horses are the occupation of nobles in Prussia… in fact, I'd scarcely ridden in a carriage before this journey."

      "Well in that case, I shall surely teach you to ride!" Dominic smiled at the vividness of the blue in Elijah's eyes, and found that he had no problem doing whatever the American suggested, as long as he could see that happy glow.

      "Do you ride often?"

      "Whenever I have the chance. You've been helping Viggo with the medicine, have you not?" Dominic nodded in the affirmative. "Well then, it shall be very simple to borrow a horse from the community. You can gather herbs in the woods. I will accompany you."

      "But how do you get a horse, then?"

      "Ah, but that is my job, friend. Someone has to take care of and exercise the animals, and who would find more happiness in that than myself? Except for maybe Viggo, of course, but he is a strange fruit. I've seen the man take a horse out alone at night, several times… and well, never mind that. I shouldn't be saying anything."

      "Wait, what…?"

      "Almost time for evening chores!" Elijah exclaimed suddenly, his eyes clouding over as if he had just realised how quick he was to trust. "I hope to see you soon, Dominic." And with that, Elijah and his dishes were gone, leaving Dominic very confused indeed, scratching his head and trying to make sense of Elijah's sudden jump from instant friend and confidant to slightly distrustful and wary of divulging details. Still, he supposed, a man's business is his own, and in any event he would have time to further question Elijah soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic and Viggo have a little chat.

     Before long, Sunday dawned on Bethlehem. Dominic attended services reverently, though he couldn't help but notice Elijah three boys down from him on the pew making funny faces when Viggo wasn't looking. Throughout the week following, Dominic did his share of the community chores, and ate meals and worshipped with the others in his choir. Viggo had been away for several days, so Dom didn't have any duties at the start of the week as far as the healing was concerned. However, his mentor mysteriously reappeared on Wednesday, refusing to give any details of his absence but putting Dominic back to work extracting juices from a couple of potent varieties of leaf.

     "Viggo?"

     "Yes?" Viggo didn't look up from what he was doing, his eyes trained studiously on his juice-stained fingers as he tore bits of eucalyptus, but Dominic knew Viggo's attention was focused on his pupil nonetheless.

     "You're the person to ask if I have a question, right? I mean, about the community?" Dominic lowered his head, looking almost guilty, and Viggo gave him a curious look before turning back to crushing the plant.

     "Yes, I am. What's troubling you, Dominic?" Viggo's voice was soft, almost as if he knew what Dominic was going to ask before his mouth opened. It was a bit distracting, but reassuring at the same time, and Dominic felt strangely compelled to speak honestly to his mentor.

     "Well… it's just… I noticed something." Glancing around furtively, even though they were clearly the only occupants of the small wooden cabin, Dominic almost slipped and cut himself on the knife he was using. Blue eyes flashing in concern, Viggo reached out just in time to grab Dominic's wrist, steadying him, and gently removed the sharp object before any damage was done. Dominic slowly raised his eyes to Viggo's face, and suddenly felt even more guilty. Viggo knew. What Viggo knew, Dominic couldn't say, as even he was unsure as to the root of the guilty feelings he had been experiencing.

     He thought back to the dream he had had just the night before and blushed, the image hazy but nonetheless something that he knew to be inappropriate.   
Viggo was in the dream, and although his purpose in this vision wasn't entirely clear to Dominic, he shivered as he felt his pulse jump insistently under Viggo's calloused fingertips, a strong sense of déjà vu washing over him as the steady touch wrenched him back to the present.   
He only wished that he could put a name to the feeling that had been haunting him, igniting without warning as he suffered under these phantom touches. However, as he was unable to do so, he tried to break the uncomfortable silence with a somewhat bumbling question.

     "Wha…do… um…"

     "Take your time, Dominic," Viggo cooed as Dominic stuttered embarrassingly, trying to word his inquiry correctly.

     "I… well I'm curious… you know Lucia and Matthias are to be wed on Sunday?"

     "Yes, of course. The entire community is expected to attend," Viggo pointed out with a small smile.

     "Yes… well… I was just wondering…" he broke off, and Viggo smiled knowingly.

     "Looking forward to your own ceremony?" he asked, voice so soft and understanding that Dominic wouldn't have heard had he not been less than a metre away.

     "Well…" Dominic's eyes dropped to the wooden table, and as his blood continued to leap against the scant barrier of skin protecting his vein from Viggo's thumb, he felt an insurmountable and unexplainable surge of shame. "I… no. I'm… I don't think I'm looking forward to it at all, that is." Viggo's eyes studied him carefully, and Dominic found himself unable to meet the steely gaze. From his periphery, however, he could see an indescribable look pass over Viggo's features, clouding his look of comforting with uncertainty. Dominic gently tugged his arm away, forcing Viggo to release his grasp as the older man contemplated his next words, and he wondered at the slight hesitation in his companion's fingers before he returned to his work.

     "Dominic… it's perfectly natural to be apprehensive about one's marriage," Viggo replied slowly, almost as if feeling his young companion out. His fingers continued to crush the herbs against the side of a large wooden bowl, but his eyes did not waver and held Dominic's own frightened gaze unerringly. What Viggo sought in his gaze, Dominic didn't know, and he struggled to give the correct answer but found himself unable to deliver anything but the truth under those harshly assessing eyes.

     "I… I'm not apprehensive. I just don't want to," he admitted, more clear now than he ever had been in his own head. "One doesn't have to get married, right?" Viggo chuckled slightly, and the spell was broken, Dominic's wrist slipping from his fingers as mirth crept into the fine lines around his eyes.

     "Dominic, look at me. Am I married?" Viggo's smile was almost impish, and Dominic frowned at his mentor, who for a moment took on the look of a kid who had gotten away with the theft of a favourite sweet. Before he had a chance to contemplate the expression, however, it had passed, and Viggo's eyes were again mysteriously clouded.

     "Well… well, no, but you're Viggo." Viggo laughed again, heartily this time, and Dominic smiled a teeny bit in spite of himself, hands fidgeting and twisting together now in his lap. "I mean… what I mean by that is… you're a leader. I mean you're single because you have to be. They need someone to lead the choir."

     "Because I have to be?" Viggo asked, his laughter faltering but a smile still just twitching at the corners of his mouth as he met Dominic's eyes in a silent challenge. "…Or because I want to be? Tell me, Dominic," he continued, softly, leaning in almost imperceptibly. "How are you so sure that I have not made a choice?" Dominic frowned, but Viggo continued, explaining himself with a cross between mirth and mystery on his features. "There are many ways to meet the same end, Dominic. You are young, but you shall learn in time. Follow the Scriptures, we teach you, and this is true, but the Scriptures contain many stories and many ways to serve your Lord. Consider this."

     Dominic shivered, not knowing why, and fixed Viggo with a blank look. He wasn't sure precisely what Viggo was getting at, but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable for no explainable reason. "Not all men marry," Viggo continued, ignoring Dominic's reaction for the time being. "Choosing to remain without wife, however, is a difficult path to take, and one that must be scrutinized by the Elders," he pointed out. "You need to have a good reason, of course, as marriage is the path ordained by God for men, in a reflection of Christ's love for the Church. But you know that already, Dominic." His gaze was appraising now, almost a gentle reprimand, and Dominic nodded under its force, his eyes lowering again. "The choice not to marry is a choice that you can make partially on your own, but the rest is decided by the community. Tell me, though, and perhaps I can help. Why is it that you don't want to marry?"

     Dominic met Viggo's eyes again, and thought about the question for a moment, how best to answer. But in reality, he didn't know. It just didn't feel right. He shook his head, clearing it.

      "I can't answer that," he responded before he realized what he was saying, and then wasn't sure exactly why it was that he couldn't answer. But Viggo just nodded, and seemed to understand, returning to his work in a subtle dismissal of the topic.

      "When you're ready to answer, I'm here." Dominic sighed and reached across the table for his knife again, the cool blade against his skin bringing him back to reality as he refocused himself on his work. He didn't understand his mentor, and perhaps he never would, but it was a comfort. Maybe he didn't really have to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah the Mischevious resurfaces, and Dominic meets someone new.

      The next Sunday night, Dominic lay awake for many hours, tossing and turning so that the thin linen of his nightshirt was sure to leave telltale red creases on his pale skin, his hair mussed beyond repair from his frustrated movements.

     The day had been a happy one, full of joy and celebration for the newly wed couple whose marriage ceremony had taken place in the church after usual services in front of the eyes of the community and Christ himself. And now, Lucia and Matthew were in the long wooden house at the edge of the town where rooms were set aside for married couples to participate in the lovemaking act.

     Actually, Dominic mentally corrected himself, by now both partners were in their own new beds in the married choir homes, as the prescribed time for sexual activity had long passed. Open as the community was about such things, Bethlehem was nothing if not organised, and like all other things, sex had a time and a place. And so, it was this sense of organisation and security that startled him so when a foreign hand shot up into his bunk, obscured by darkness, clamping over his mouth and restricting any sound or movement.

     Dominic's first thought was to panic, put up a physical struggle of some kind, alert the rest of the choir, but before he had a chance to act, a head popped up into his line of sight. Pale skin was tinted bluish in the moonlight, and a brilliant grin shone underneath a head of mussed brown hair.

      "I told you I was going to teach you to ride, did I not?" Dominic's eyes went wide with the excited whisper, and he looked around him desperately as Elijah beckoned him to come down and follow.

     Dominic hesitated for a moment, his better judgement telling him not to follow the oddly confident young man. However, he had no intention of causing a stir from a verbal argument, the rest of the choir being sound asleep in their beds. His curiosity getting the better of him, Dominic found himself sliding silently to the cold wooden floor, reasoning that they could speak outside and then he would return to his warm, safe sleeping place.

      Elijah opened the door at the end of the long cabin carefully, avoiding any squeaks from the wooden frame, and motioned for Dominic to follow him into the next building. Here it was empty, but Dominic still didn't dare speak for fear of being caught. They silently removed their day clothing from the wooden cubbies along one wall and dressed quickly, exiting the way they had came and creeping quickly down the dirt path towards the stables.

      "Are you completely daft?" Dominic finally exclaimed when they reached the tree line, clearly out of the earshot of the others. Elijah grinned even wider at Dominic, who had still not raised his voice above an angered whisper, and shook his head, gesturing at the stable door.

      "Not at all, young Dominic. I'm simply aiding you in fulfilling your duty to the community."

      "To the… what?" Dominic was utterly dumfounded as Elijah hopped the low wooden railing in front of the nearest stall and began to rouse and tack up a young tawny-coloured mare.

      "You, my friend, are gathering nightshade for Viggo. Very important." Elijah's smile was the picture of innocence, but his eyes sparkled eerily in the moonlight shining through the stable windows and Dominic didn't buy it for an instant.

      "Nightshade… you little… was Viggo actually informed of this charitable errand, pray tell?"

      "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Dominic shook his head at the ever-brighter twinkle in Elijah's eye and warily stepped forward, holding his hand out over the railing for the horse to sniff. She tickled his palm with a warm, wet, nose, and Elijah let out a satisfied giggle as he watched. "You've gotta bring food for her next time. She doesn't like a tease, now." Dominic raised his eyebrows, but chose not to comment as Elijah slipped the bit into the horse's mouth.

      "What's her name?"

      "Tagestraum."

      "Daydream…" Dominic repeated the name back reverently, almost in a whisper, and then nodded as Elijah opened the gate and led her out.

      "Here, take the reigns. You'll ride her, I'm going to get Diablo ready." Dominic stifled a giggle, which came out as more of a snort, as Elijah prepared a lean, almost jet-black male horse in the next stall.

      "You ride a horse named Diablo??"

      "Shut up. He's a good horse. Kind of crazy, but he likes me. Don't you, Dia?" The beast whinnied receptively and nuzzled Elijah's shoulder, stomping his hooves a few times but not objecting as Elijah got him ready. "No one objects when he's gone, anyway. He won't let many ride him."

      "But you…?"

      "Dia's good to me. They were going to let him go, you know. But Viggo told me that if I could get him to bear me, we would keep him." Elijah's hand stroked absently along the animal's head as he spoke, and Dominic marvelled at the relationship between man and beast, a large chocolate brown eye keeping Elijah in focus as the horse bowed his head slightly to receive Elijah's touch.

      "So he's your horse then?"

      "Essentially. You know how they feel about private property around here. But I'm more independent than most, anyway, and Viggo knows that. He doesn't cross me too much." Dominic cocked his head, eyed the youth suspiciously as he laid a plaid blanket over Diablo's flank.

      "You're pretty confident for someone who's breaking God knows how many rules right now," he commented with an appraising look.

      "And you with me," Elijah pointed out with another brilliant grin. "But my situation is different than many here. I made the choice to come, after all. That's rare, and so I think Viggo respects me. Warily, but he respects me. Now come on! It's time for your first lesson!" Elijah swung one leg confidently over Diablo's flank, gracefully airborne for a moment until he landed atop the blanket with a hand on either side of Diablo's neck. He whispered a few words to the animal, and Diablo walked a bit unsteadily in Dominic's direction, stopping with a light tug on his mane from Elijah, who then instructed Dominic to slip a foot into the stirrup on Tagestraum's left side and use it to boost himself onto the horse.

     Though not particularly graceful, Dominic was able to seat himself in the saddle with a fair amount of ease, and was somewhat grateful to Elijah for tacking Tagestraum up in the standard fashion, though he himself rode Diablo in Indian-fashion with only a blanket for the horse's warmth and the man's comfort.

      As they rode through the woods that bordered the settlement, Dominic adjusted fairly quickly to the feeling of being in a saddle. He learned the signals to the horse without too much difficulty, and was able to follow Elijah along a network of slightly worn paths that led deep into the virgin forest. Tagestraum was a gentle animal, and carried him with her head high, almost in ladylike dignity, Dominic noted with a smile.

     Diablo, on the other hand, really was a little crazy, barely bothering to heed Elijah's commands and always wanting to run just a little bit faster, or a little more zigzagged, than Elijah probably would have liked. But the young man simply laughed aloud at the animal, reserving no punishment for him, and allowed Diablo to misbehave just a little as long as he bore his rider in the generally desired direction.

     They did, at one point in their walk through the woods, stop in a clearing to gather a bit of nightshade, placing it in a leather saddlebag to "avoid suspicion," as Elijah put it. Dominic found himself questioning his decision to ride after this comment, as he had never had any desire to be found suspicious in the first place.

     Elijah's laughter was infectious, however, and he found that it was relaxing, at least, to get off into the cool night air on the warm back of a gentle animal.

      Dominic was just ready to suggest that they turn back, as his thighs were growing increasingly sore and the dark blue at the edge of the horizon was beginning to lighten faintly, when they heard a twig snap.

     Dominic jumped in his saddle, and Diablo whinnied loudly, looking ready to bolt any minute until Elijah whispered some soothing words and dismounted the animal, leading him gently with a firm hand on the horse's neck to the source of the sound.

      "William Boyd, I could have your head for frightening the poor animal!" Elijah exclaimed with only a half-angry tone in the darkness, and to Dominic's surprise a slight figure slid out from behind a thick oak, rifle held loosely under one arm.

      "Jeezus, Lighe! That's what you get for scaring me like that, now innit lad?" Dominic just watched in surprise as the stranger pulled Elijah into a tight hug, his thick Scots brogue and the tartan of the blanket draped over his shoulder giving away his origin.

      "Come now, Billy! What're you out here at all hours of the night for, anyway? Shouldn't you be in your bed with your little lady, hmm?" The stranger smiled conspiratorially and elbowed Elijah, but his eyes darted over Elijah's shoulder in explanation.

      "Injuns, Lighe. Woods are full of the little buggers. Just protecting my house and home, lad, and that includes the lovely lady keeping the bed warm for me, indeed." Elijah frowned and shook his head, his voice lowering.

      "Billy, you know you've nothing to fear from the tribes out here. What have I always told you? They're happy with you and the missus in this part of the country, and they shan't be disturbing you…"

      "Lighe. I know they're your friends and all. I know what happened when you were a wee one, but that doesn't change the present situation. A man's got to protect himself!" Elijah didn't look convinced, but he apparently decided that the conversation was best reserved for another time and suddenly turned to his still mounted companion.

      "Well now, Billy! Where are my manners? This is Mr. Dominic Monaghan, here, arrived from Germany just a couple of weeks ago. Dominic, this is Billy Boyd."

      "Pleasure to meet you, lad. Germany, you say?" Billy's eyebrow raised, almost in a suspicious manner, though Dominic couldn't figure why as he slid out of the saddle and shook the Scot's hand.

      "Yes sir, but I'm English by parentage."

      "Ah, well then. Guess I'm not supposed to have much a love for the English either, eh? But your kind haven't been much trouble to me on this side of the ocean, and any friend of Lighe's is a friend of mine." Dominic smiled, somewhat weakly, but supposed faint praise was better than nothing. "Tell me though, Lighe. I haven't seen you around lately, and so late… is something wrong?"

      "Not at all. Dominic here has never ridden a horse, and so I offered to instruct him."

      "Never ridden a horse? Is that so, laddie?" Dominic nodded, a bit embarrassed, but Billy's grin held nothing but a gently teasing mirth. "And out so late…?" Billy then directed a rather pointed look at Elijah, held longer than necessary, meaning behind it that Dominic couldn't read.

      "Oh hush, Boyd. When else was I supposed to commandeer a mount for the poor boy, hmm?" Billy tossed his head back, laughter uncomfortably loud in the dark twilight of the woods.

      "Commandeer, you say? You're not a pirate, Wood!" Elijah laughed lightly, shoving Billy's side in jest, when both men froze, hearing the rustling of hooves from just beyond the crest of a nearby hill.

     Dominic started when he was simultaneously tugged by both elbows behind the tree that had been Billy's hiding place. He thought it was a bit of a joke to be attempting to hide with both horses still standing clearly in the open, but he couldn't open his mouth to point out this folly with Elijah's hand clapped tightly across his lips. He grumbled weakly in protest, but the hand only tightened, smelling of earth and leather and sweat.

     Elijah's leg was tight against his left as they crouched down, and Billy's hand rested on his right shoulder. From his position between the two of them, he couldn't see a thing, but the tree didn't exactly sufficiently shelter three grown men, and the widening of Elijah's eyes as the hooves drew closer was enough to tell him what he needed to know.

      "Good morning, gentlemen." The loud voice startled Dominic, and he jumped as Elijah rose to greet the familiar voice, looking a little sheepish but also a little smug. When Billy stood as well, Dominic realized he was going to look pretty stupid crouching alone behind a tree, and rose to follow them.

      Viggo sat high in Schwarzfee's saddle, eyes stern, looking none too pleased. His disapproving gaze was focused principally on Elijah, but Dominic felt his cheeks redden with shame. Even in the scant light of early morning, Viggo's eyes glistened the blue-grey of an oncoming storm, and their intensity was startling. If there was anything he could do to avoid ever witnessing that look again, he would gladly submit to Viggo's will without batting an eye.

      "Viggo, mate, haven't seen you in awhile," Billy commented with a smile, evidently delighting in the discomfort of his young companions as Elijah shuffled his feet idly.

      "William. Still Indian hunting, I presume?" Viggo's stare was just as cold when it focused on the Scot, and Dominic shivered despite the relative warmth of the morning.

      "Protecting my property, mate. All a man can do. But what are you doing out here at all hours of the night?"

      "Well, William, you may notice that it is in fact morning," he pointed out, nodding at the increasing light in the eastern sky. "And given that fact, I rose early to see about tending to Schwarzfee here before my other duties. Imagine my surprise, gentlemen, when I found two horses missing, and one of them, indeed, the horse that _only_ Mr. Wood here is privileged to ride." Viggo directed a pointed look at Elijah, evidently pleased with his own ingenuity, and Dominic had the distinct urge to cower apologetically.

      "Well, technically, Viggo," Elijah pointed out, most of the confidence gone from his voice but still with the hint of a smile pricking up the corners of his mouth. "Diablo will let you ride him, as well."

      "Yes, however I clearly did not steal the horse that was missing, did I?" Viggo's tone was raised almost to a yell, evidently annoyed for having his intelligence mocked. Elijah, to his credit, actually took a step back at the outburst, his head lowering a bit in defeat. "Dominic," Viggo continued in a slightly softer tone. "Do you care to explain your involvement in this fiasco?"

     Dominic looked up in surprise, seeing something in Viggo's features that was not exactly warmth, but at least a sort of stern intent to be understanding, and this gave him the courage to speak. "Elijah suggested that we… we gather nightshade, sir."

     "Nightshade, is it?" Viggo asked, raising an eyebrow. Viggo was no idiot, and Dominic knew this. As much as he wanted to protect his friend, he couldn't help but feel Elijah's hanging-rope was already tied for him, so to speak, and Viggo's stare was compelling, urging Dominic to tell the truth.

     "Well, yes, sir, but… well we had another purpose, sir, as well."

     "Yes?"

     "Well, you see, sir, I've never ridden a horse before, and Elijah, well, he thought he might show me, you see. He was just trying to be helpful," he quickly added, hoping to take a little of the edge off Elijah's own punishment.

     "I see." Viggo pursed his lips, seeming to consider for a few moments, and closed his eyes and opened them again before continuing. "Well, Dominic, I can't say I exactly condone your sneaking off in the night to learn to ride a horse. If you really desired this education, you could have come just as easily to me in the daytime. However, I will acknowledge that Mr. Wood has quite the powers of…persuasion." Out of the corner of his eyes, Dominic saw Elijah stand a little straighter with pride, and Dominic had to stifle the urge to roll his eyes.

     Viggo's expression had softened considerably as it focused on Dominic, and Dominic found himself more than a little relieved when Viggo made his judgement. "Assuming it won't happen again, I will talk to you myself about the matter later today, and that shall suffice for your punishment. I don't believe in harsh consequences for a first time offence, especially when you are clearly not the primary guilty party. However," he added, schooling his features again with that hard look at Elijah, an accusatory finger pointed to emphasize his point, "you know better, Elijah. I reserve some leniency for you, and you know that. But how dare you abuse my kindness to tempt another into ill-doing?" Viggo's tone was harsh, and Elijah resumed a guilty look, not paying any heed to Billy, who was looking rather delighted at this whole proceeding. The Scotsman was actually smiling as Viggo ridiculed his friend, and Dominic wondered if this was a very common occurrence. "Elijah, I think you know what comes next," Viggo finished in a tone of dismissal.

     Elijah shuffled his feet uncomfortably but did not speak. Viggo just sighed, looking more tired than anything, and tugged at his reigns to direct his horse back towards the settlement. "I have no more say in this matter. Sean will decide your manner of punishment." And with that, he set off at a trot, the other men hurriedly saying their apologies to Billy and mounting to follow him home.

     Dominic risked a quick look at Elijah as they reached the crest of the hill, first rays of sunlight shining down on their faces in the clearing. And in the light, there was no mistaking Elijah's expression. An evil hint of a smile graced his features, and for someone who was essentially directed to ride to his own funeral, Elijah looked remarkably chipper. Dominic shook his head, mildly impressed by his friend's resilience. If he had personally been directed to report to Sean Bean, one of the strictest ministers in the community, his smile would not be nearly as wide. However, he surmised, this was perhaps why it was Elijah, and not himself, that had been punished for such crimes numerous times and still managed to escape to do it again. Dominic, for one, was fairly certain that Viggo was plenty for him to deal with. Elijah could pick his own battles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah meets with Minister Sean Bean.

      "Sean, buddy, mate, old pal, how's it going?" Elijah leaned confidently in the doorframe, his tone sarcastic as he announced his presence to the minister reading through statements at his desk.

      "Elijah." The minister's tone was cold, his eyes focused sternly on the young rascal whom he knew all too well. Elijah smiled weakly as he stepped into the small room, then lowered himself into the wooden chair facing the older man with a dramatic sigh.

      "C'mon, Seanie. Let's make this quick, eh? You and I both know…"

      "Perhaps, Mister Wood, you should not be so quick to assume what commonalities you and I share," Sean interrupted, his harsh gaze unwavering. Again, Elijah sighed, clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned forward slightly in his chair.

      "I don't know, Sean. Last time we met…"

      "There will be no discussion of last time, Mr. Wood. Don't make your punishment worse by exacerbating my mood, boy." Elijah's eyes glimmered a bit, his posture unwavering, leaning in just a bit more to test the man's ease. He met Sean's hard look with a playful one, refusing to cower under the attempt at intimidation.

      "Come on, Sean. It was just a little innocent ride in the woods. Don't tell me you haven't ever wanted to have a little _innocent_ fun yourself?" Sean growled at Elijah's choice of words and leaned in challengingly, his face a fraction of an inch from Elijah's but his expression much less jovial.

      "Such insinuations, Mr. Wood, are hardly appropriate for a _boy_ of your standing. Do I make myself clear?" Elijah met the older man's gaze for half a minute, then slowly let the corners of his mouth curl into a smile. Oh, he was getting to the minister all right. He knew exactly which buttons to push, and how hard.

      Leaning back into his seat without releasing the satisfied smile on his features, Elijah shrugged his shoulders, palms turned upward in an innocent gesture. "I don't know, Sean. I wasn't insinuating anything. I believe you were the one to draw such conclusions."

      Sean just stared, and then leapt from his seat, pacing back and forth in the small room, dusting his hands against each other as if trying to rid them of some invisible grime. "We are here to discuss your punishment, Elijah. Not to play games."

      "Who said I was playing?" Elijah's posture had now reverted to a comfortable slouch, arms crossed casually at his chest, and he felt very much at ease as he watched the flustered minister pace in front of him. Sean, he knew, had only one method of handling things. If intimidation by size and age failed, then he was utterly lost for a way to tame Elijah. Elijah had used this knowledge to his advantage before, and he didn't expect it would fail him now.

      "Don't toy with me, young man, or things will be much worse for you. I know Viggo treats you like a piece of very valuable glass, but he and I are not of the same opinion on that matter."

      "I don't want you to treat me like glass, _sir_," Elijah replied mockingly. "I won't break."

      "So sure of yourself, boy," Sean muttered, seemingly speaking to himself and not to Elijah at all as he faced the corner of the room. Drawing a deep breath, he seemed to make an internal decision and whipped around suddenly, leaning forward and placing his hands on each arm of Elijah's chair, looming over him in a posture that was meant to be intimidating but only drew an amused smirk from Elijah's face.

     _Oh, I'm going to enjoy wiping that cute little smirk right off his face_, Sean thought as he watched Elijah try to maintain his confidence. _I haven't lived on this settlement since the beginning for nothing._

      "Elijah. I've let you play with fire far too long," he continued aloud, tone low and dangerous. "This time, boy, you've crossed a line. I couldn't give a rat's arse what you do with your own time, but your blatant corruption of a recently arrived youth is absolutely unacceptable." His voice was low, gravely, and quite intense. Elijah's every muscle went taut in a conscious attempt not to shiver under the man's direct gaze, and he fought not to back down, forcing an amused smile to his lips.

      "Trying to scare me won't work, Seanie. You know that."

      "That's _Minister_ Bean, Elijah!" Again, Sean appeared rattled, and he removed his hands from the arms of Elijah's chair as if he had been burnt, once again turning to the corner to collect himself. Smiling, Elijah rose silently from his seat and stopped just behind Sean, close enough so that if he leaned forward a bit his chin would be on Sean's shoulder blade.

      _You can't hide behind your God forever, Sean,_ Elijah thought to himself. Leaning in to be sure his breath just grazed Sean's earlobe, he lowered his voice to a whisper, feeling Sean tremble slightly beneath the tickle of air on his skin. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

      Sean whipped around again with a disgusted growl, eyes flashing, but looked momentarily shaken again when the movement placed him scant centimetres from Elijah, looking down on him with anger but in a somewhat uncomfortable proximity. Elijah, however, looked positively triumphant, and at that moment Sean would do anything to rattle the overly confident youth. "I will _never_ be afraid of you, Elijah," he bit out, and grabbed Elijah's wrist to emphasize his point, yanking the boy almost against his body as if to prove that the closeness couldn't intimidate him. "You have yet to learn the meaning of fear."

      They stood in this position for several heavy moments, and then Sean released Elijah, turning again to the wall as if to signal the conversation's end.

      "Two weeks labour," he announced, quietly. "You will meet with Viggo every three days for discussion and prayer. And you are not to see the young Dominic unless your duties demand it."

      "That all, sir?" Elijah asked with a smirk.

      "Yes. No… you are not to see that William Boyd, either. Or ride to the Indian settlements, under any circumstances."

      Elijah grinned, careful to keep his tone soft but sensing the implied message. "What is it that you think I do with Billy and the Indians… sir?"

      "Elijah. Don't ask me questions you know the answer to." Sean's tone was equally level, not turning from his corner, hands clasped tightly behind his back. The tense musculature of his neck stood out in sharp relief from his white collar, and Elijah licked his lips as he schooled himself to remain still. He and Sean were both aware of what the purpose of their previous encounter had been, a report from a woman in the community that she had seen Elijah engaging in "improper" relations with a young Indian male behind the cabin of one Billy Boyd. The account, in reality, had been embellished considerably by the young woman. Her own presence in the woods with a single male member of the community was furthermore somewhat questionable, but that didn't keep Elijah from using the accusation to rattle Sean a bit. Yes, he had quite enjoyed discussing the finer points of sodomy law with Minister Bean, and knew now first-hand what it took to make Sean squirm.

      "And Viggo? Why shouldn't I meet with you personally for reflection, sir?"

      "Don't question me, boy. You're needed in the halls, now. You're on serving duty for lunch." Elijah grinned and left quickly, allowing Sean to be alone with his thoughts. _Nothing like a little playing with the superiors to alleviate one's foul mood_, he thought triumphantly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two meetings with Viggo.

      "Dominic. Please come in," Viggo invited, not looking up from his work. He was shuffling through what looked like a stack of records on his little-used desk. Dominic trudged in the room quickly, hands in his pockets, not daring to look up as he lowered himself into a wooden chair facing the desk. "You know why I called you in here, do you not?" Viggo continued, keeping his own eyes lowered as he replaced the records in a wooden box with a rusted gold latch.

      "Yes, sir. I… an apology is in order, I assume. I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, and it won't happen again," Dominic mumbled, his fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap. "I… I've enjoyed my time in the community thus far, and I wouldn't deign to mar it with my inadequacies…" Dom paused for a moment when he heard Viggo clear his throat, and looked up cautiously, surprised to find the other man smiling at him from across the desk.

      "Dominic. I didn't know you were so well spoken," Viggo teased, his smile genuine. Dominic couldn't help but smile in return, despite his fears, and scratched the back of his head with a shrug.

      "I… my mum taught me, you know. To stay out of trouble. High German and the Queen's English, they come in handy sometimes."

      Viggo smiled and nodded, pushing the wooden box aside to lean forward, elbows on the desk and his chin in his hands in a very casual posture. "You needn't use such speeches here, Dominic. There is no need to impress me, for you already have."

      Dominic started, and gave Viggo a questioning look. "Sir?"

      "Your candour, Dominic," Viggo began without dropping the amused smile, "and your ability to think on your feet, not to mention your respect for authority and clear desire to listen to and understand others', has impressed me since you arrived here. You needn't be frightened of me, for I imagine this little indiscretion has very little to do with you personally." Viggo smiled warmly, and Dominic wondered how many times Elijah had committed such an offence.

      "Oh, well… thank you, sir. Thank you very much."

      "Viggo."

      "Sir?"

      "No, call me Viggo."

      "Oh, right. Viggo." Viggo smiled and Dominic expected to be dismissed, but Viggo's eyes were patient, as if waiting for Dominic to make the next move.

      "Um… Viggo?"

      "Yes?"

      "Well I was just wondering. Billy, you've met him before?" Viggo sighed and sat back a bit, folding his hands in front of him and appearing to contemplate the dirty fingernails.

      "I have. A number of times."

      "He… well he obviously doesn't think much of the Indians, but you and Elijah…"

      "Elijah and I have had personal experience with the natives here. Billy, regrettably, has not. Though he was mentioned in the formal proceedings as a party to the last offence Elijah was charged with, his cabin was little more than a convenient place in the woods behind which to hide. I'm afraid William Boyd could quite benefit from more one-on-one interaction with the people he lives in such close proximity to."

      "And this offence? I mean… what did Elijah do, exactly? With the Indian?" Dominic could have sworn he saw Viggo's eyes sparkle a bit at the question, but his expression was quickly checked, his clasped hands tightening as he responded in a coldly formal tone.

      "Elijah was charged with lewd and unseemly acts, Dominic. Sean dealt with the manner, and Elijah was duly punished. That is all you need know about your friend's behaviour."

      There were a million more questions, but Dominic sensed the time for parlay was up, and he rose slowly from his seat. "Viggo?" he asked once more as he stood in the doorway again.

      "Yes?"

      "If I wanted to ride again, well… do you think you could find a way to teach me? You know, as an official thing? It might come in handy, my being able to ride horses? Maybe I could come on one of your missions?" Viggo smiled and nodded, for though the mission members were generally of the married choir, there were certain missions that he had in mind for Dominic, missions that would not meet the general approval of the community but that were nonetheless vital. Dominic, a new citizen of good behaviour who was essentially left entirely Viggo's charge, could easily slip under the radar and be quite an asset.

      "Yes, Dominic. I would be happy to give you another lesson, at more respectable hours. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

      "Okay, um… thanks, Viggo," he replied, and with a little awkward wave, Dominic was off again, leaving Viggo to shake his head, smile, and return to his work.

     

      Three days later, Viggo was again sitting in his office, going through a few of his favourite psalms in a worn leather-bound copy of the Bible that he kept often by his side, when another young man appeared sheepishly in his doorway.

      "Um, hey. We have a session today, yeah?" Viggo looked up with a warm smile and nodded at Elijah, who looked much less confident in front of him than might be expected, shuffling from foot to foot with hands jammed inside woollen jacket pockets. Viggo had seen first hand how cocky and confident Elijah could be with Sean, a man whom most of the young men in the community feared and avoided, but Viggo had an inkling of what was going on there. The relationship between Elijah and Viggo was more one of mutual respect, and so Elijah had a reason to be embarrassed when he did something to compromise this respect.

      "Come in, Elijah. Stay awhile," he joked warmly, gesturing with one hand to the chair facing his desk, which Elijah carefully slung his jacket over the back of before taking a seat. Viggo marked the place in his bible with a short length of ribbon and sat the volume aside, leaning onto his elbows as he addressed the youth. "So, Elijah. How is your labour sentence going?"

      Elijah shrugged, his eyes cast downward. "It's all right, I guess. Just mucking out the stalls and serving meals."

      "You like the horses," Viggo stated, his tone warm. Elijah nodded but didn't look up. "There's nothing wrong with that, Elijah. You know I'm happy to let you use a steed when you…"

      "I know," Elijah broke in, looking up suddenly and confronting Viggo's gaze with one of startling blue. "I'm sorry, Viggo, I never meant to betray you…" Viggo held up a dirt-stained hand, brushing off the apology with a kind look, but Elijah had obviously been thinking about the incident and didn't just let it slide. "Vig, I know you're putting something at stake by allowing me this much independence. I'm not invested in this community, not really, but Dominic has potential, and…"

"Just because you aren't invested now, it doesn't mean I've given up on you, Elijah," Viggo interrupted with a serious tone. "You're an intelligent young man. You can't be bullied or bribed into religion, but I believe that you will come to some spiritual understanding through your own free will and intelligence, as I myself did a long time ago. I know I may not seem like the banner-carrier for the religious ideals of this community, Elijah, and maybe I am something of an outcast, to be handled carefully," he paused and smirked, thinking of the times he had gotten this reaction from his elders, "but I do believe in God's word. I think through instruction and study on your own, you too will come to that belief in your own way."

     Viggo's speech was slow and careful, giving Elijah the time to connect with his words, and the younger man nodded, signalling understanding. "I want to try, it's just that I'm a cynical person. It's hard to understand, when I find… well, I guess I could be hung for saying this in some places, but to be honest with you I've never felt more at harmony with what you would call God than when Dancing Crow was inside me, Viggo." Elijah paused, as if waiting for the impact of his statement to sink in, but Viggo just nodded, his face completely passive and non-judgemental, letting Elijah continue. "The natives would call it being at one with my own spirit, I guess, but that's what you mean when you talk about the force of Christ, the Holy Ghost… that's what Sean means," he added with a significant look, and Viggo just nodded. "Do you see what I'm saying?"

     "Sean is over forty years old, Elijah," Viggo responded, folding his hands together on the desk and leaning back slightly. "He's seen a lot in those years, and he has a lot to work out on his own, something that I, and certainly you, cannot help him with. At least not yet. You may have seen something of Sean's personal struggles in your meetings with him, but it's his choice to confide in you or not. And given your age and position, I imagine that even if you think you can help him to understand himself, he's not going to accept your help." Elijah fidgeted a bit, wanting to speak, but Viggo just shook his head. "I know you think you know the answers, Elijah. And you might. You and I think very similarly, and I don't necessarily disagree with your concept of religion or spirituality, but Sean sees things differently. He is an ordained minister, and he's used to looking at the world in a very structured, prescribed way. If he wants to change the rules that he has written for himself, then that is his to decide, and no one else's. If he chooses your… companionship, only then can you give it to him. I think you know that, Elijah."

     "Maybe, but I'm a stubborn bastard," Elijah admitted with a smile and a shrug. Viggo looked at Elijah for a moment, not speaking, and then threw his head back, letting out a roar of laughter as he raised his folded hands in the air and cracked his knuckles. When his outburst had finished, he leaned forward again, elbows on the table, and grinned as Elijah stared at him incredulously.

     "Elijah, I think I know that as well as anybody," Viggo pointed out, and Elijah smiled in acquiescence of the fact, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt as he waited for Viggo to continue. "Seriously though, these things aside, Sean and your concerns with him aside, I want you to learn to embrace faith in a way that works for you. Honestly, I love my work, but do you really think I take everything in here at face value?" he asked, thumping on the Bible with his knuckles for emphasis. Elijah raised an eyebrow, but Viggo just smiled. "I'm not saying we can't learn from Christ's word, Elijah, but I'm also saying we take in God's message in the way that best suits us. I find God in the psalms. I also find Him in the look in a woman's eyes when I first hand her a newborn baby girl, and in the 'miracle' healings that come from rich soil and wildflowers. I find Him in the sweat that breaks out on my back and the connection I feel with the animal when I bring a horse up to a run, and yes, Elijah, I have felt Him in the act of making love, be that for better or worse." He smiled indulgently as Elijah sputtered, his hands fidgeting nervously now as he tried to work out Viggo's admission in his head.   
"But Viggo, you're not married, you…"

     "Every man finds the way that is best for him, Elijah," Viggo admitted simply, holding his hands out in a gesture of acceptance. "I cannot tell you what is right, but you know how you feel in your head, and more importantly, in your heart. God will lead you to whatever place you need to go, and though I may provide guidance, I cannot get you there on my own. Let me read you something, though. I think this may apply." Viggo smiled and opened his Bible again, carefully thumbing through the thin pages until he found the passage he was looking for. Elijah gave him a sceptical look, but didn't speak, allowing Viggo to read what he had chosen with a look of mild interest on his face.

     "_Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness: thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. O ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory into shame? How long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Selah.  But know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself: the Lord will hear when I call unto him. Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah. Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the Lord. There be many that say, Who will shew us any good? Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased. I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety._"

     Viggo closed the book quietly when he had finished reading the psalm, and let the silence hang between them, testing its weight before he finally spoke, fixing Elijah with a kind look. "It's one of my favourites," he admitted. "O ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory into shame?" Viggo repeated in a louder tone, as if beseeching Elijah himself. "Resonates, doesn't it?"

     Elijah gulped, catching Viggo's knowing look, and nodded. "It does." Too often had Elijah been made familiar with the concept of religion being used to shame him, rather than to uplift, and now he wondered how often Viggo had been on the receiving end of such punishments as well.

     "Perhaps that can be your assignment for the next three days, Elijah. I want you to meditate on that psalm, and remember in your prayers to ask God to reveal himself to you in whatever way he prefers. The Lord works in mysterious ways, Elijah, and not everyone finds him on the pulpit or in the pews. But you will find him, none the less." Viggo smiled, and Elijah returned the gesture nervously, slowly rising from his seat.

     "Thank you," Elijah replied quietly, turning to go.

     "Of course. And Elijah?" The young man stopped in the doorway and turned, facing Viggo again. "Commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still," Viggo repeated, smiling once more in a reassuring fashion. "Let your prayers speak truthfully your heart's desires, and then allow yourself rest. The psalm is about trust, and I fear that is trust—in the Lord, in yourself, and in others—which you most lack. Do not let your thoughts consume you, my friend."

     Elijah gave Viggo a questioning look, but answered the nod Viggo gave him with a sad smile, clearly understanding. Too many times had Elijah let himself naively trust and then been told that his way of thinking was wrong, his values skewed. It would take effort to trust again, to believe in a God that would protect him, in friends that would not shun him, and even in his own beliefs, which were challenged every day, but he was beginning to develop faith. Maybe Viggo was right, and he could come to his own way of understand religion, as Viggo himself had. And if he could do that, well… maybe he'd at least be halfway to helping Sean come around. Smiling to himself, Elijah raised his hand as if to tip an imaginary hat to his superior and then left, leaving Viggo to thumb again through his worn Bible and contemplate his own role in whatever was to come.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viggo and Sean talk.

      It was on the afternoon of his third mandatory meeting with Elijah that Viggo decided to pay his good friend Sean a visit. On official time, Viggo and Sean were expected to meet with each other so that Viggo could communicate his concerns about the boys in his choir to Sean and so that Sean could counsel him and provide personal prayer sessions, but their personal relationship went beyond that.

     Viggo and Sean were the same age and had both been in the settlement since its start. Sean had been an Anglican minister in a county parish in England, disillusioned with certain parts of church doctrine, when a friend offered him passage to America and a place to live in exchange for his services as one of the ministers in a new religious settlement in Savannah, Georgia. After a short stint in Savannah, Sean had relocated to Bethlehem when the quickly growing new community needed a junior minister with some experience to deal especially with the youth choirs and young men and women of marriageable age who needed spiritual counsel. Viggo and Sean had quickly bonded over their professional similarities and over time Sean had become Viggo's closest friend and confidant, and vice versa.

      Although he had asked Elijah not to meddle in Sean's personal affairs, Viggo knew considerably more of his old friend's struggles than Elijah did and decided that after allowing a couple of weeks for Sean to work things out in his own head he would offer an ear.

     He found Sean relaxing in his office, marking through his Bible for Sunday's sermon, which he would be delivering to a small special congregation of Indian youths who were working towards conversion. He smiled broadly when Viggo rapped on the wooden doorframe and gestured expansively, waving Viggo inside as he set down the Good Book.

      "Vig! Haven't seen you in awhile, friend. Please, come in!"

      Viggo smiled and entered the office, shutting the door carefully behind him and lowering himself into the chair that faced Sean's desk. "How are you doing, Sean? Things coming along well for the sermon?"

      "Yeah, I think so. I'm going to be focusing on a couple of parables and having the kids work them out for themselves as much as possible. The last group seemed to like that a lot at this age." Viggo nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle, his hands folded modestly in his lap. "And you? What have you been up to this afternoon?"

      "Oh, not much. Just got out of my meeting with Elijah, actually," Viggo replied, careful to keep his face neutral and simply observe his friend's reaction. Not surprisingly, Sean's face clouded over at the mention of the name, but it was much less expected when Sean let his head drop into his hands, rubbing his temples in consternation.

      "Jesus, Viggo. It's just… damn it, those old demons are coming back to haunt me once again, you know," Sean admitted with a defeated sigh. Viggo just nodded, recognizing a past that Sean rarely spoke of but clearly was haunted by. "You know what made me a man of the cloth, Viggo. It was guilt that pursued me, and it's guilt that I've fought against for so many years. But there's something about him… Elijah just erases that guilt, Vig. He looks at me, and gives me a cocky little smile, and I forget the guilt. I feel almost… content, God help me. Content in my sin." Sean shook his head again, and Viggo's heart went out to him.

      "Sean…forgive me, but have you considered the possibility that God has put Elijah here for a reason? I mean, if seeing him makes you feel less guilty, maybe that's a good…"

      "No!" Viggo nearly jumped from his chair at the violence of Sean's reaction, his hands slamming forcibly to the desk, and he would have if he weren't familiar with his friend's occasional fits of rage. Viggo knew to sit this out, but it was tough. "Jesus, Viggo. Don't you tempt me, not you, too… I can't… Jesus." Sean shook his head, pretending to examine his nails, but Sean was not a vain man and Viggo knew the wheels were turning as he pretended to disengage.

      "Sean… you're my oldest, dearest friend here. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" Sean shook his head at the question, his eyes registering confusion. "Right. Well what about me, then? When you look at me, is the first word you think of 'sinner?' Is my devotion to the Lord tainted or impure because of what I am? Because of who I am?"

      Sean shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, and tried to find a loophole. "But you aren't… anymore… you had impure urges but you haven't acted on them in a long…"

      "I've had such urges more recently than you would expect, Sean." Viggo's tone was hard, but honest, and Sean blinked at the implication.

      "Who…?"

      "I'm not comfortable naming names right now, to protect the person in question. He hadn't sinned with me, nor has he admitted to impure thoughts himself, and I have no desire to act in an improper way towards him. But Sean, you must apply whatever harsh thoughts you apply to yourself for desiring of the same sex, to me. You want what? Companionship, love, trust? You desire the boy sexually? I have been guilty of all these things," Viggo admitted, holding his hands palm up to each side as if laying the truth out on the table. "If you allow God to judge me for this, and withhold your own judgment, then you should apply no other standard to your own desires. I can't tell you what is sin, and what is not, for that is only for the Lord to decide. If you feel in your heart that you are a sinner, so be it, but this isn't what I'm hearing from you."

      "But Viggo. He is… the community would shun me…" Sean stuttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

      "Sean, I know the community does not accept such things. But I would be a hypocrite if I were to tell Elijah that he is pure in the eyes of the Lord, that his way of worship is no less than those so-called 'proper' men who use religion to shun and judge him, and then were to give differing counsel to you. You are a minister, but you are not perfect. And who is to judge perfection here on earth? Who is to measure the quantity and quality of a love that best matches Christ's love for his church? Not myself, certainly, nor you, nor any man. Love as best you know how, and pray often, my friend. God will tell you what is right."

      "And this is the counsel you give Elijah?" Sean asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

      "It is the same," Viggo replied simply.

      "And how does he respond to these teachings, then? Does he embrace them?"

      Viggo shrugged. "More than any other counsel he has been given on the Lord's love."

      Sean nodded, seeming to consider for a moment, and then met Viggo's eye. "I thank you, my friend, but I'm afraid I need to be alone for a while. There is much thinking to be done. If you are right, well…the Lord will help me understand what I must do."

      Viggo smiled and nodded. "As you wish."

      Rising slowly from his chair, Viggo headed to the door as Sean opened his Bible again and shut it gently behind him. As he left the building adjacent to the chapel that housed Sean's office, he let his eyes sweep the grounds, taking a mental survey of everyone's midday activities. In a yard not far from where he stood, a group of young boys were playing with the supervision of one of the children's choir leaders. Further down the dirt path, a large wooden frame was occupied by several married women who were busy hanging freshly washed white linens up to dry. Viggo nodded respectfully at them as he passed, and they smiled brightly and waved, looking up from their chores for a moment to watch him. The women in the community tended to respect Viggo greatly for his demeanour and especially his abilities to heal their children, many of which had been rescued from a fever or infection by his herbal remedies.

      As he passed the stables, he nodded to the men leading several horses back in from an hour's exercise and noticed Elijah helping to load fresh straw into a stall near the entrance. If he was being completely honest, he would admit that Elijah's manual labour wasn't really a sentence of punishment after all, for Elijah loved being around the horses and didn't mind taking care of them all that much.

     But then, in his eyes, Elijah's crime was somewhat minor. The young Monaghan hardly seemed negatively affected, as Elijah hadn't broken the command to avoid him whenever possible, and the most positive result of the incident in Viggo's eyes was his opportunity to meet with the youth for prayer. Elijah, after all, was quite a smart young man, and Viggo appreciated the chance to give him some one-on-one instruction. Together, they had been reading through the psalms and Elijah seemed to be honestly considering how best to communicate with God through prayer and reflection, rather than dodging religion with his usual sarcastic quips. Elijah, in fact, reminded Viggo quite a bit of his own adolescent persona, constantly questioning and searching to understand despite occasional bouts of mischief. Sean's own problems with Elijah weren't really Viggo's business, but he personally enjoyed the boy's company and hoped his instruction might be of some use in whatever way the Lord saw fit.

      When Viggo had passed the stables, he rounded the corner and headed in the direction of a sawhorse, set up in a clearing, where Dominic was working alone to chop a large bundle of rough timber into firewood. Two young Indian children, both boys, sat in front of him, their faces rapt with attention, and Viggo grinned as he heard a snippet of the story Dominic was telling.

      "…and then the sky opened up, almost like a big bag of water, just like that. Snap! The thunder was so loud we could only hear each other speak if we yelled, and the water was streaming down our faces. Sure, it was scary, but I knew I had to be strong for all the little girls and boys…"

      Dominic caught Viggo's eye briefly during his tale of bravado and winked, causing Viggo to stifle a laugh behind his hand.

     As Dominic continued to tell the story of his passage to the Americas from Europe, Viggo held up ten fingers to signal ten minutes and nodded in the direction of the stables, getting a nod in return. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he had a sudden urge to spend some time with the young man, and going out on the horses was the best way to do so. He had to give Dominic a lesson today anyway, and it wouldn't be smart to start after sundown. Whistling to himself, Viggo headed off towards his own office to collect a few leather satchels that he could use for gathering herbs. He shook his head at his own excuse, remembering Elijah's woods from that night a couple of weeks ago. _ Gathering nightshade indeed… like mentor, like student_, he thought, chuckling to himself as he stepped into his office and shut the noises of the community behind him out with the door, leaving Viggo to his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

As the sun sunk low behind the trees, Dominic allowed himself to observe his mentor more candidly, having fallen behind on the narrow dirt path. They had been riding to the northwest of the settlement for about an hour, occasionally stopping to gather a particular plant, but often in companionable silence with only the occasion suggestion from Viggo with regards to Dominic's posture or riding technique.

The older man, Dominic noticed, rode Schwarzefee bareback like Elijah, unlike that first day in the presence of the rest of the community when Viggo had used a saddle and stirrups. Most remarkable to Dominic was that not only did Viggo ride without a saddle, but he didn't use reigns, either. Strong, calloused hands rested firmly on the animal's neck, and aside from the occasional gentle tug of the mane, Viggo seemed to communicate with his horse entirely through soft spoken words which he would lean down to deliver close to the horse's ear. For a fleeting moment, Dominic envied the life of a horse, fed and cared for by a kind master, spoken to gently and trusted enough to roam almost free in the forest.

Viggo's hair had grown longer in the month or so since Dominic had known him, and it was currently tied back with a plain black ribbon, the low sun catching glimmers of red in the light brown shade. His linen shirt hung comfortably on his form, and Dominic could just make out the lines of a straight, muscled back and broad shoulders underneath. Moving further down, he could just make out the way Viggo's powerful thigh muscles, encased in tight black breeches, gripped the horse's flanks. His posture was correct as any English rider's, yet the man moved with a grace that made him look wholly relaxed, and not at all stiff or rigid.

Shaking his head slightly, Dominic pulled himself away mentally from this track. He had never taken such a conscious appraisal of another man's physical form, and he was embarrassed to realize how much he appreciated Viggo in an aesthetic sense. The man's quiet grace and hidden strength drew Dominic to him, and the secrets that he had at first feared of Viggo's past and occasional wanderings from the community now tempted him with their mystery. What exactly did Viggo do, out here in the woods? What was his relationship with the natives? Elijah had spoken of things learned in his own time with the Indians that at first seemed illicit and unseemly, but now Dominic itched to know more.

Coming into a small green hill which protruded from the wooded landscape, Dominic was torn from his thoughts when Viggo let his steed fall back into step with Dominic's, gesturing at the top that it was time for them to dismount. From here they could see vast expanses of forest, and smoke rising in curls to the east that Dominic recognized as the signs of supper back in the settlement. Further west and north, there was more smoke, and Dominic squinted for any sign of its origin.

"Native settlements," Viggo explained with a soft smile, helping Dominic untie his own leather bag from Dominic's saddle and tugging the blanket from his own horse's back. "There are several large ones that way. Come, let's let the horses free for a bit while we enjoy our supper," he coaxed, and Dominic found himself sitting cross-legged on the large flannel blanket opposite Viggo, a spread of cured meats, bread, and cheese laid out in front of them, along with a clay jug of wine. Viggo's eyes sparkled as he took a sip straight from the jug, and then passed it along to Dominic. "Go on, then. I know you're not used to it here, but I keep a bit around as a special treat."

Dominic smiled nervously and took a small sip of the liquid, which was quite good, and then took a bite off of the hunk of bread Viggo offered him. "Those settlements over there," Dominic began, gesturing with his eyes to the curls of smoke. "That's where you do your missions?"

"Not exactly," Viggo admitted. "We've already brought most of the children from that area into the settlement, and when the young ones are ready, the parents will send them to us of their own volition. The next converting missions will take place much farther off, beyond the Susquehanna there," Viggo explained, pointing behind him to a winding narrow line of blue just barely visible at the edge of their line of sight.

"How long will it take to get there?" Dominic asked, trying to imagine a ride with Viggo that would last several days or more, not just an evening.

"Quite a few days, Dominic," Viggo admitted with a smile. "The next mission… well I think you're ready to hear about it, because I plan to take you with me. Only you," he added, critically studying Dominic's face in the fading light for a reaction.

Dominic stared for a moment. "Only me? But what about… I thought… aren't missions generally fairly large? And aren't the participants usually members of the married choir?"

"Yes, Dominic," Viggo agreed with a smile. "They are. But the part that they don't mention to you, the part that isn't necessarily…sanctioned, by the community, can be the most important part."

"I don't follow," answered honestly, frowning slightly as he cut a bit of meat with Viggo's long-handled knife.

"The converting missions are as you described, yes. I, and a couple of other older men of the community who have at least some knowledge of Indian customs and language, travel to the settlements with a group of married men and women. We live with the natives for several weeks, describing our customs and religion to them, and gradually find members of the community who are willing to dedicate their children to our faith. More parents become convinced by their peers, and some adults join as well. However, you can't just march into an Indian village and assume that everyone will be open to the idea," Viggo pointed out with a smile.

Dominic thought about it for a moment, and nodded. "I suppose you're right, yeah."

"That's where we come in, Dominic. I visit the Indian villages we wish to have relations with in advance, usually a few months before the primary mission. I tend to bring only one other person with me, often Elijah. I learned the Munsee language in New York, and the Munsee Indians are very similar to a group of the Delaware tribe called the Lenape by Europeans, but their language is not identical. By this point, I speak the Leanape dialect well enough to communicate, but Elijah's experience living among the Lenape people for several years has given him language skills superior to mine. However, due to Elijah's recent indiscretions, it would be impossible to gain clearance to bring him with me. And that's where you come in."

Dominic smiled nervously, still feeling a bit guilty for his part in Elijah's punishment, but Viggo chose not to bring it up. "The trip I'd like to bring you on, Dominic, is less of a converting mission and more a cultural exchange. We'd be riding out beyond the Susquehanna and many miles further, to the banks of the Alleghany River. We'll then seek audience with one of the local chiefs, where we will be his guests for a period of time. I don't think it's necessary to convey to you the importance of mutuality here—you mustn't assume that our culture is superior when dealing with native people, for we are their guests. In these initial talks, it is of utmost importance to be kind, respectful, and gracious to our hosts. Obviously you don't speak the language, and though I'll teach you a few words and phrases, that shouldn't be a problem. But I imagine we will be asked to share healing techniques and participate in certain ceremonies. This may make you feel uncomfortable, but I urge you to participate in whatever you're asked and not be quick to judge. If you're not interested in the task, I won't fault you, Dominic, but I need your honesty."

Dominic shifted slightly under Viggo's intense gaze, lit now by the rising moon, and took a long swallow of wine before answering. "I'll do it, Viggo. I won't disappoint you, I promise. I don't want to do anything to embarrass you or jeopardize the mission."

Viggo smiled and reached out, giving Dominic's shoulder a brief squeeze. "I'm sure you won't." They ate in companionable silence for a moment, until Viggo set down his knife and sat back, leaning on his hands in the dry grass. "I think I will enjoy the chance for some solitude with you, Dominic," he admitted.

Dominic blushed and smiled, basking in Viggo's praise. "I think I… I think I would like that, as well. Tell me, Viggo. You've disappeared twice since I've joined the settlement, for a few days at a time. These weren't missions, were they?"

Viggo smiled and shook his head. "No, Dominic, they weren't."

"Why, then? Did you go to see the Indians?"

"I did. I have friends among their settlements near our own, and I go often to seek advice from the healers there or simply to commune with my native brothers."

"You… you feel a kinship with them, then?" Dominic asked, furrowing his brow. He was trying to understand, but he had still never met a native outside Bethlehem, and he found it hard to imagine befriending Indians in the wild, without the benefit of assimilated dress and religious education, not to mention the German language.

"Yes, I do. There are several men and women within the neighbouring tribes with whom I am very close, Dominic. We are brothers in Christ, whether they specifically accept our religious tradition or not."  
"Will you… well maybe it is inappropriate for me to be so curious, but I would like very much…" Dominic stuttered, twisting his hands together in front of his body, but Viggo just waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. "Viggo, Elijah described some ceremonies to me," he finally explained. "I mean, not recently… he hasn't gone against his punishment; I haven't seen him," he added in a rush. "But before… he told me a bit about their spirit world, and I… well I've enjoyed learning some herbal remedies with you. I think I might also like to learn some of the spiritual rituals that go along with the medicine. That is, so I might be able to heal on my own one day," Dominic finished finally, his eyes lowered shyly.

Viggo grinned and nodded, evidently pleased with the younger man's enthusiasm. "I'd like that, Dominic. I'd like very much to show you what I know… all I ask is an open mind. And ask questions whenever you need to. You can't learn if you don't ask. You'll find, I think, that many native practices are not so divorced from Christian faith as you might think," he pointed out, and Dominic nodded.

For a long while, they sat in silence, their food abandoned, bellies full and hearts content, until Viggo's eyes suddenly turned towards the moon and a smile came over his face, as if recalling a far-off memory. Quietly at first, but increasing in volume and fervour as he went along, eyes drooping shut, he began to sing.

Dominic sat back on his hands, staring at Viggo, marvelling at the beautiful but incomprehensible words pouring from the man's ruddy lips, when he realized that the song must be something Viggo had learned from the natives. The syllables sounded like nothing Dominic had ever heard in Europe, and the cadence was powerful and loping, drawing out the vowels and rising and falling in waves of volume as Viggo called out to some spirit Dominic could not name. He wanted to rationalize that the song was simply another form of a hymn, a call to the Lord our Saviour for redemption and peace, but Dominic knew in his heart that that wasn't it.

Viggo's song, beautiful and emotional, was an appeal to some natural force stronger and more present here in the wind, the grass rustling against his fingers, and the dew collecting in the air, than Jesus Christ could ever be. The thought, he knew, should bother him immensely, but it did not. Maybe Viggo was right. Perhaps it was only a matter of perspective.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elijah and Sean talk scripture. And if that's not euphemistic, I don't know what is.

Two weeks after their mysterious evening-long disappearance into the woods together, Dominic and Viggo left on an extended trip, giving no definite date of return. Elijah, of course, knew what was going on. He had been on countless "exploratory missions" like this one, and probably would have been the one with Viggo if it weren't for his slightly inconvenient current state of punishment. Nevertheless, he was happy to see the bastards go. Because this, he fully realized three days later with a shit-eating grin, meant that his twice-weekly prayer meeting would _have_ to take place with Sean.

When two 'o clock came, Elijah finished the stall he was mucking out, waved goodbye to the other boys in the stable, and brushed his hands on the back of his trousers as he headed towards Sean's office. He had thought about this meeting a lot today, and as tempting as it was to just storm in and seduce the poor man, he had a feeling that Sean was capable of doing a lot of "figuring out" on his own by now, without needing a push. Today, he would be the picture of innocence… or so Sean would think. It was up to him to make the decision.

When Elijah stepped inside the office, pulling the thick wooden door shut behind him, he was surprised to find the minister a picture of resignation. Whereas Elijah was used to Sean's fiery eyes, determined expression, and challenging posture, here he found a shadow of the man he so loved to goad, slumped in his leather chair with an unreadable mask of defeat clouding his features. Elijah didn't like it one bit.

"Um, good afternoon, sir," Elijah greeted the minister hesitantly. He stepped slowly towards the desk, unsure how to react.

Sean looked up and sighed, gesturing for Elijah to take a seat opposite his desk. He allowed Elijah half a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Sir? That's a new one out of you, lad."

"I… are you okay?" Elijah asked abruptly, leaning forward in his chair as if physical proximity could wrench a reaction out of the older man. "You look… stressed."

"My mental state is none of your concern, Elijah. Should we start the lesson?"

Elijah frowned, opened his Bible in his lap, and then stopped, fixing Sean with a hard gaze. "Actually, yeah, it is my concern. What's wrong with you? I don't like this… you're cutting me off, or something. I don't appreciate it."

"What you do and don't appreciate is not my problem, _lad_," Sean bit out, and Elijah smiled slightly. This was the Sean Bean he wanted to see.

"Right, well. We'll see about that," Elijah replied simply, dropping his focus to his open book. As tempted as he was to look up and catch the surprise on Sean's face, he restrained himself. This was what he wanted. The fiery, passionate man he knew was lurking behind the minister's collar. And he would reward it, not by rising to the challenge and mouthing off as he usually did, but with reticence. He would be the perfect, calm, curious student. He would break Sean down not through shouting or goading but by using his own tools against him. Ah, this was going to be fun.

"Right, then. What have you and Viggo been discussing in your meetings thus far? I guess we can work from there," Sean finally spoke, opening his own Bible in front of him on the desk.

"We've been reading psalms together," Elijah answered, flipping to where a red ribbon marked his place. "He chooses a psalm for each meeting and I read it, and then come back and discuss what I've learned."

"And which psalm did you last read?" Sean asked.

"Um, it's the seventh."

"And what did you think of this psalm?" Sean prompted, turning in his own Bible to the appropriate page.

"Well, I was particularly interested in lines three through five," Elijah explained, finding the section with his finger and reading aloud. "_'Yaweh, my God, if I have done this, if there is iniquity in my hands, if I have rewarded evil to him who was at peace with me (yes, if I have delivered him who without cause was my adversary), let the enemy pursue my soul and overtake it; yes, let him tread my life down to the earth, and lay my glory in the dust.'_"

"And what do you think this passage means?" Sean asked.

"Well, obviously David is arguing that he's done no wrong to his adversary. In fact, he beseeches God to punish him severely if he _has_ done anything to his enemy, but specifically if he has 'rewarded evil to him who was at peace with me.' So in other words, I guess, don't go asking for trouble." Sean smiled slightly at Elijah's sheepish grin and nodded.

"Go on."

"I think, also, that David is saying that men should let each other conduct their own lives as they see fit. He asks God to punish him if he has done wrong, in other words, to deliver his own judgment of David's actions, but he's also saying that men should not judge each other. The ultimate wrong is doing evil to someone who has done nothing to you. Viggo and I have talked a lot about God's judgment, and how it is wrong to judge a fellow man… I guess David here is subscribing to a sort of 'live and let live' policy. If you're not hurting other people, do as you see fit."

Sean narrowed his eyes as Elijah came to the end of his explanation, sensing a trap but not entirely sure how to defuse it. "Well, Elijah, there are things that a man can do wrong that don't directly hurt another. Suicide, for example, is a great sin. A man who commits this sin does not directly harm another by taking his own life, but he does harm the fabric of the community and indirectly harm others through the loss to society. There are also other things that the church does not condone that aren't directly harmful to another human being, but are destructive for other reasons. How would you explain that?"

Elijah was still for a moment, considering. "Well… I would say that the church is a body of human beings. We all have an intention to love and serve the Lord, but who's to say that one man's means of worship is right, while another's is wrong? David asks God to make the final judgment, not men. And I'm in inclined to agree with him." Sean was silent for a moment, his gaze mildly rebuking but no words coming to his tongue, and Elijah jumped at the chance to twist the knife deeper. He scooted forward in his chair, his hands fidgeting and eyes bright as he spoke, caught up in the passion of the chance to defend his argument. "Men, I believe, are prone to certain inclinations, if you will. Certain desires or… urges. Perhaps not all of these are correct or holy, but a man must run at least partly on instinct. Viggo and I agree on this—if Christ is in a man's heart, he will know right from wrong. Some of these urges may feel unnatural, and others may feel correct. A man can suppress an urge which he feels no internal objection to, because the church or other men tell him it is wrong, but in the end you… he… knows that the feeling is natural and right."

Sean frowned at Elijah's slip-up, but the words hit truer than he would have liked. He glared across his desk at the conniving little youth, the headstrong boy who pushed his every button, who managed to expose desires that he had long since buried, and God help him, this only made him want the young man more. He had been trying to fight it since he first encountered Elijah, but now the feelings bubbled to the surface with a force all their own, and he couldn't help but question whether Elijah was right—why, after all, did he feel no pull of guilt when he and the young man spoke freely? Why did God not caution him through his conscience to avoid these debates that only made his blood boil with excitement and passion?

Still, however, he had a job to do, and he was damned if he was going to let his own passions interfere before he had more thoroughly analysed them. "Elijah, I think you're treading a fine line here," he ventured, careful to school his own expressions to neutrality and not to allow the young man to push him into anger. Anger, he had found, was far too akin to passion for his comfort. "Perhaps Viggo is right. I would agree that God gives us each an internal mechanism to determine right from wrong, a basic sense of morality that can act as a compass for our actions. But it is still our responsibility to follow the scriptures, and the scriptures strictly forbid certain desires, including those which I'm sure you're alluding to."

"Would you judge me, Sean?" Elijah asked, suddenly, throwing Sean a bit off balance at the sincerity in his eyes. His expression was almost childlike, his head cocked to the side and the pads of his fingers pressed together in a triangular shape, just resting against his lips as he appeared to genuinely be trying to understand the older man. "If I told you that I have felt, and do feel now, an almost all-consuming desire for another man, a desire which is pure and right and true and feels in my heart to be as spiritual as taking the Holy Communion—would you judge me? Would you judge me here on earth, before God is given a chance in heaven?"

Sean stared for a moment, just stared, not moving, not blinking. He knew the proper response. 'Of course, Elijah, your desires are inappropriate and I want only to guide you in the proper direction, as your minister, so that you can avoid such a holy judgment when it comes.' But, God help him, he had felt those same desires. He tried to suppress them, tried with every fiber of his courage to hold back, but he couldn't deny it. His mind tried to caution him, reminding him of the teachings of his elders and the community's interpretation of the Bible, but his heart leaped in his throat, surging at the chance to express a joy that was as pure as any he had ever felt in response to Elijah's admissions. Feelings long suppressed, a relationship from his youth… it all came back in the blue of Elijah's eyes and the innocence of his smile, and the only response Sean could think of was not an answer to Elijah, but a plea to the Almighty. _Forgive me father, for I so desire to sin._

"No, Elijah," Sean spoke finally, hands folded on the desk in front of him. "I should judge you, perhaps. But I cannot," he breathed, his eyes lowered, unable to meet the glee he was sure to find on the face across from him.

A minute passed, maybe two. Time, in fact, seemed to stand still, until a pale hand slid within Sean's field of vision, cupping his chin in a firm, but gentle grasp. A slight pressure forced him to look up, and in those eyes, Sean was lost.

"I'll see you next week," Elijah said simply, his voice soft. He smiled, almost angelically, and left the room without a single teasing remark. No shout of triumph, no seductive sway towards the door, no inappropriate touches to seal Sean's fate. Elijah was giving Sean a choice, and he was damned if that didn't make him ten times harder to resist.

The minister sighed, let his forehead rest on the cool wooden surface of his desk, and wished that Viggo were here. Viggo would have the answers. Or Viggo, at the very least, would force him to admit that the answers were right in front of him.

Damn that bastard. Why was he always right?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viggo confides in Dominic, and Dominic has a dream.

On the second day Viggo and Dominic spent riding out towards the Indian settlements, they stopped only very late, having crossed the Susquehanna river early in the morning and being now only a few kilometers shy of the next, wider river. The night was clear, and Viggo found a clearing in the woods where they could set out the animal skin they used as padding on the forest floor, a few metres away from where they set up a fire circle for cooking and warding off unfriendly animals.

Dominic was given the task of fetching water from a nearby stream, and armed with a large flaming branch for light, he returned with a large wooden bucket looped around each arm, first letting the horses drink and then using the other bucket for their own cooking and drinking water. When he took a seat on a large, flat stone, Viggo had got a roaring fire going, and was roasting the bird he had shot down earlier on a branch for supper.

"Looks mighty tasty," Dominic commented with a smile as he sat his bucket down, nodding at the bird whose flesh was beginning to turn a crisp golden colour.

Viggo smiled in return in the firelight and nodded his thanks for the water. "Horses are doing all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine." Dom stepped over to a flat near Viggo's spot at the edge of the fire and sat down.

"Good. I think we'll reach the settlement by nightfall tomorrow, if the weather stays good."

"Excellent," Dominic commented, lifting a twig from the forest floor and idly whittling it with his pocket knife for something to do while they waited on their meal.

"Dominic, I want to explain something to you tonight, before we arrive. I know we've talked a lot about having an open mind, and embracing traditions that we do not yet understand until we can fairly comprehend their meaning, but there's something more specific you should know, about the way we'll be perceived by the tribes we're visiting."

"Okay. Lay it on me, then," Dominic encouraged, nodding.

"Well there's a reason that I usually take these initial trips with Elijah, beyond his language skills. The native people, you see, they see the world and specifically human relationships in a different way than Christian nations. It's not to say that one concept is 'right,' or 'better,' but you may be surprised by what you find when we arrive."

"Like the way their kin groups function? You've already explained that to me, though," Dominic pointed out, looking confused.

"Yes, but not just that. You see, there's a special relationship in Indian society, one that is highly revered, and one that the native people we encounter will perceive between the two of us… you understand, of course, the idea of a master/apprentice arrangement, or that of a mentor and a student?"

"Sure. That's what we are, right?"

"Yes," Viggo agreed, nodding. "Well the Indians have a similar system, which functions to bring their young men into society. The coming of age is a very important tradition for both boys and girls, and it is part of why we try so hard to find parents willing to bring their children into our society. Parents understand the importance of childhood, and of education, and they come to see advantages with giving their children up to us before their coming of age. Baptism, in fact, is seen by the natives as our sort of coming of age ceremony, and the two worlds fit together quite well in that regard."

"Okay, well I understand all that…"

"Yes, well the other thing you must understand, is that a young man, a few years younger than you are now, would be given a sort of older mentor in Indian society. This person would help the boy to understand Indian traditions, his relationship to his kin group, and his responsibilities as a grown man. Although you are a bit older, this is still how the natives are likely to perceive our own relationship."

"Okay. Well, what's the problem then? I mean, I'm not offended that they won't think I'm of age…"

"No, Dominic, that's not it. What I'm trying to tell you is that the older man in such a relationship, he educates the youth in all areas of society. Including, well, sexual relations." Viggo waited a moment, allowing the import of his explanation to settle in.

Dominic frowned for a moment, considering what Viggo was telling him, exactly. "I don't understand… you mean the older man tells the younger man how sex works? That isn't so different from our own system, I mean an older couple tells the newlyweds…"

"No, no, I mean the older man educates the youth personally. The education is indeed meant to be used with the younger man's wife or wives, but this takes place before a marriage partner is chosen. And what I'm trying to tell you is that the older man would show the youth how it's done, personally, by performing as a woman would in the act of lovemaking. I know this goes against everything you've been taught, Dominic, but I don't want you to judge the way some of the men you'll meet will act towards each other. They're going to think this is the relationship you and I share, and for the sake of cultural understanding, I wouldn't recommend that you tell them otherwise."

As Viggo explained, Dominic continued to frown, evidently parsing the information out in his head. "I don't… you're saying that men in the community we're visiting lie together, aren't you? But… that's forbidden… I mean…"

"Many believe that the scriptures forbid it, yes. But I've taught you over the past few weeks that the scriptures are interpreted by many men, who come to many different conclusions."

"You don't believe it, do you? You don't think it's wrong," Dominic stated, his tone gently accusing but his eyes still soft. He wanted to understand, if he could.

"I don't, no. Obviously the young men who are welcomed into our community will have to halt such activities because of what's best for society, but…"

Viggo trailed off, and Dom looked confused, his brows scrunched together as he thought about the implications Viggo's words. He was willing to go along with society's rules, but it was clear that his heart had another motive.

"Fine, then," Dominic replied. "I guess that's all I need to know. I trust you, Viggo… but I'm confused."

"Of course. I understand…"

"I just need to think, okay? But I promise to try my best not to judge the people we meet."

"That's all I can ask of you, Dominic. Thank you."

Dominic smiled brightly and nodded. "No problem. Now, is it time we eat this bird? I'm starved!"

Viggo laughed and carefully removed their meal from the fire with Dominic's help, using a small knife to cut the juicy bits of meat off the bone and divide it between the two of them. He knew that there would be more trials for Dominic before this trip was over, but he trusted the young man to act with sensitivity towards the people he would meet.

His own feelings towards Dominic only increased in intensity as the days went on, pride and compassion mixing with something deeper, something sharper. But Viggo, for his part, was a master of control, and he had passed trials harder than this. He trusted himself not to fail this time.

\------

_ Dominic was standing in the centre of a large circle, a bonfire at his back. Around him were many men, their skin a dark reddish complexion and their clothing exotic and unlike anything he had seen. They were speaking in a language he did not understand, laughing and pointing at him. _

_ He tried to catch the eye of one of the men, to ask for help, but it was as if they saw through him, were looking past him. Dominic turned to the fire, and there in the centre, as if untouched by the flame, were Viggo and Elijah, naked but for dabs of native war paint and a feather headdress fastened to Viggo's hair. _

_ Dominic blushed, and tried to look away, but he found that his neck was locked in place, and he could do nothing but watch. Words of a tongue he didn't understand rose from Viggo's lips, powerful and frightening, as if invoking a spirit or enchanting the fire not to burn him. Dominic watched, transfixed, as Viggo's body, tan and muscular, circled Elijah as if he were a panther and Elijah was prey. _

_ Elijah dropped to his knees slowly, as if in supplication, and spread his arms, palms up, his eyes raised to the night sky. Dominic watched in horror as Elijah prayed—again in a foreign tongue, but somehow Dominic knew it was a prayer—to some God other than Dominic's own, and then let out a cry of pleasure as Viggo pounced, knocking him back into the flames as he covered Elijah's pale body with his own. _

_ Dominic jumped at the voice in his ear, thick with its heavy Scots brogue and a hint of arousal. Billy was standing behind him, and though Dominic wanted to beg an explanation, ask the only person here who seemed to understand English what was going on, his tongue was dry as sawdust._

_ "They're beautiful, aren't they? Viggo loves him, Dominic. He loves Elijah like a man loves a woman. Do you want him, Dominic? Do you want Viggo to love you like Elijah? You want it, don't you?"_

_ Dominic tried to open his mouth to protest, but no words would come out, and instead, to his horror, he found himself singing in a voice that was not his own, a beautiful and reverent melody in the same tongue that the others had used. As he sang, he felt the grip of a hand on his inexplicably hardened flesh, not Billy's or his own. He turned, still singing, and gasped as Viggo swallowed the foreign words into his knowing mouth. _

Dominic's whole body spasmed as he suddenly awakened, and he was horrified to realize where he was—just a few metres from the fire, only a thin blanket covering him, the memory of his dream still very fresh in his mind. He was extremely grateful that Viggo didn't turn, and blushed a deep crimson as he realized two things at the same time.

One, the song he had been singing in his dream was actually coming from Viggo's lips, the words beautiful though meaningless to Dominic, Viggo's body leaning into the fire as his song carried on the breeze.

Two, his hand under the blanket was also underneath his night shift, and moving of it's own accord in a frantic pace against hardened flesh. His eyes went wide as he yanked his hand away, but they refused to tear away from a tightly muscled back, light brown hair sweeping down broad shoulders over a pale shirt, thin enough to make out the lean shape of a waist and the subtle curve below.

Shit.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean faces his past.

Two days after Elijah met Sean for prayer, two days after the boy showed the considerable restraint that only served to kindle the fire in Sean's veins even more sharply, a short letter appeared under Sean's office door. The letter was written on a scrap of parchment, and the penmanship was a little shaky, but legible.

Minister Bean,

I ask you, not as a student, but as a friend, to dine with me tonight. I have checked in advance, and there are no duties that need your attention. You are of course welcome to decline, but I sincerely hope that you will not reject my invitation.

Please do not be afraid of me—what passes between us is, and always has been, entirely up to you. If you are interested in meeting me, come to William Boyd's cabin at sundown. He and his wife are away visiting her sister in Philadelphia for two nights and we will not be disturbed.

Whatever your decision,  
Yours in faith,  
Elijah J. Wood

Sean read the missive at least four times, turning it over in his hands, running his fingers over the dried black ink. He knew that he shouldn't go. Elijah's intentions were clear—"whatever happens between us." He might be giving Sean a choice, but Sean knew what Elijah hoped for. And Elijah's intentions aside, Sean was still sure to break at least six or seven community rules if he showed up.

He would have to take a horse, which was fine for him, but he would be condoning Elijah's use of a horse, which was surely not approved in advance.

He would be meeting the boy—and this certainly did not escape his notice—at the exact location where Elijah had previously sinned with the native. If he did this, if he met Elijah with such a clear intention hanging in the air—for perhaps Elijah did not require him to do anything more than dine and talk, but Sean knew that if he went, his own intention would be clear as crystal—he would truly be no better than the native.

He knew what the natives did, he knew about their bonds of older and younger man, and he had trained himself to be disgusted by it. But now he found himself curious—how had Elijah met the man that he had sinned with? He wasn't much older than Elijah himself, one of the chief's nephews. Sean wondered if he had been training Elijah in the ways of sexual intimacy to prepare him for marriage with a woman, as was common practice in the tribes, or if the union was of a less purposeful nature. Had Elijah had such a mentor before he was brought back to the community, when he lived among the natives himself?

Sean wished, once again, that he could speak to Viggo about these curiosities and about Sean's fears, but he knew what Viggo would tell him. Sean _was_ no better than a native. Natives, just as well as Christians, were God's children, and Sean was inclined to agree with him. Was what he felt boiling under his veins when he looked at Elijah truly a sin? Did men have the right to judge him? In his mind, Sean went back, back to England and back to harder times, and felt his blood go chill.

_"You can't be serious. You're going to take up the **cloth**? Sean, that's not what men like us do! We're honest, hard-working people, and we're going to stay that way until we die…"_

_ "I can't grow old with you, Patrick."_

_ "But… all the things you've said to me… were they all lies?"_

_ "The ministers are offering me a better life," Sean answered with a shrug, his heart breaking as he stepped away to the window. "If I stay here, I live forever in hiding and in fear. We can barely make ends meet, and you know the laws don't support us. We're young and foolish, and Minister O'Keefe has offered me full forgiveness for my sins if I repent now. He says that my rejection of my religion in favour of life with you was simply a test, a test that God gave me. I still have a chance to pass this test, and so do you. We just have to admit that we've been rationalizing, that the reasons we've come up with for our love are wrong, and immoral, and that there is a better way for us within the Church…"_

_ "Full forgiveness? You want me to come **with** you? What are you, crazy?! This man is feeding you poison, and you're drinking it up like mother's milk! He only says these things to advance his own selfish goals, and you're falling for every word of it. You want to talk about rationalizing, that's exactly what those men do! They stymie their true desires in the name of God, or the Bible, or whatever… they're fucking hypocrites!" _

_Sean could feel Patrick at his back, feel the tension in his lover's muscles although they did not touch. It took every ounce of will power and determination not to hear Patrick's words, which made so much sense. The minister had warned him about this. He had to be strong. _

_"Patrick, this is the path I have chosen. I had hoped you would support me."_

_Patrick didn't answer Sean directly, stepping closer instead to stand just a few inches from Sean's back. Sean could feel the warmth of his breath, stark against the cold of their rented room. "Do you still regret me, Sean?" Patrick's voice was little more than a whisper, but Sean could hear the tears behind it, echoes of his own which remained unshed. "Are you still ashamed of that? You said you had banished your demons long ago, and now this? Answer me truthfully, Sean, and I'll walk right out this door and let you do whatever the hell you want with this life, but I want an honest answer. Do you consider me a mistake?" _

_ Sean sighed, long and painfully, unable to turn from the window. "Yes," he lied. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but if the minister was right, it would get easier. He lived in a world where this love was impure, and would be punished. He had to save himself while he still could. Patrick's pleas were enticing, but the minister offered a better life—both here on Earth and in Heaven. _

_ Sean waited for Patrick to leave, waited a few long minutes, and then he turned and was shocked to find the man still standing directly in front of him, shoving him up against the window with alacrity. For a brief moment, Sean thought he would push him through, and the three-story drop would be the end of him. And for a moment, he almost wanted that. _

_ But no, it was not Sean's fate to die at the hands of an angry lover, and instead Patrick's hands fisted in his threadbare shirt, pulled him close, and attacked him with lips that carried the passion of a thousand suns. When Patrick finally pulled away, Sean was gasping for air, and hardly conscious of the fact that they had just shared a long kiss in a window overlooking a public street in broad daylight._

_ "Hope you liked that, you Godforsaken liar," Patrick whispered, tears catching in his throat. "It's the last you'll ever taste of me." _

By the time Sean had shaken his memory, he was standing at the front door of Billy's cabin. Clenching and unfurling his sweating palms, he hesitated a long beat before knocking on the door. If he did this, and if the ministers were right, then he would be condemning himself to Hell in a way that he had finally managed to avoid when he left Patrick. But then, what if Elijah was right? What if his people misinterpreted the Scriptures? What if God really did love him, regardless of whom he loved here on Earth?

And Sean couldn't help but thinking, _Here is my chance. Here is the chance to fix what went wrong with Patrick, to set fire to a young heart rather than breaking it._

So perhaps, he thought as he raised his shaking fist to the door, it was not the fear of spiritual failure that plagued him, but the fear of breaking another fragile human heart. If he found himself to be wrong; if he realized that this was a sin and had to deny Elijah because of it, he wasn't sure he could survive another round of repentance.

"Hey! What are you doing standing out on the doorstep? Please, come in," Elijah greeted him, swinging the door open and ushering Sean inside the cabin. "I wasn't sure you would come," Elijah admitted, taking Sean's skin coat and hanging it up on a wooden peg in the corner. "I'm glad you did."

Sean looked down at the young man, Elijah's smile as genuine and pure as anything that could be on this earth, his eyes clearly displaying both enthusiasm and relief. Elijah's skin was pale against his beige linen shirt, almost ethereal, and his posture was confident but not threatening. Sean took a deep breath, locking his eyes to Elijah's own, and said a brief prayer that what he was surely about to do would be the right thing.

"I wasn't sure either. I'm still not sure that I've made the right decision, but I guess I have to stand by it, now," Sean admitted with a shrug, following Elijah to the table where he had set out some roast chicken and potatoes, along with a jar of wine that obviously came from Billy's own stores.

"I told you in the letter, Sean," Elijah reminded him in a soft tone as he pulled out a straight-backed wooden chair for Sean to sit in. "What happens tonight is entirely up to you."

"Yes, you did," Sean agreed, unfolding a linen napkin carefully into his lap. "But I want to know what you want to happen. I want you to say it, Elijah. Just so we're clear."

Elijah looked at him uneasily as he sat down across the small table from Sean, drawing his lower lip between his teeth and not answering immediately. "This sounds like a trap."

Sean sighed and poured himself and Elijah each a glass of wine, taking a long sip from his own as he considered his words. "I understand why you might think that," he finally agreed. "I've given you no reason to think otherwise, and told you very little about myself that would explain my predilections on the subject. But I want you to be honest. If it helps you trust me, I will be honest with you as well. You are not the first young man I have been tempted to fall in love with."

Elijah paused, a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth, and stared at Sean for a long moment before replying. "Tempted… does this mean you did fall in love with this other young man, then?" Sean nodded. "Oh."

"We were working class blokes, quite young, and times were hard in England. I loved him dearly, but we were suffering, and the church offered me a way out. Since then I have spent years denying and running from the past the ministers told me to reject, but I suspect that God may be trying to tell me something else now, by bringing you to me. I suspect that I may be looking at things entirely wrong. Now please, lad, tell me the truth. Tell me what _you_ want."

Elijah took a moment to think, chewing his chicken thoughtfully and cocking his head to the side as he watched Sean. It was a bit unnerving for the minister, having the boy stare at him like he was a side of beef, or rather more as if he were trying to see _through_ Sean's appearance and find something out about what he was really made of; about his soul. It made Sean feel intensely inadequate, not up to the challenge that he appeared to be facing head-on in the form of Elijah and his many sweet temptations.

"I want you," Elijah said simply after a minute's reflection. "I feel a spark with you that I haven't felt with any woman…nor with any man. I saw you as a worthy opponent at first, someone I could challenge to adjust his assumptions, but I'm starting to realize, Sean, that I have underestimated you, and maybe I've been thinking of things all wrong as well. I don't want you as an opponent anymore; I want you as an equal. I want you not simply in a carnal way, but in the way that a man loves his wife and a woman loves her husband. We're clearly not there yet, but I have my own hopes for this evening. What I'd really like is simple—for you to admit that you want me."

Sean stared at Elijah for a very long time, just chewing his food in silence and trying to process what he had been told. He wasn't sure he could do what was being asked of him—to "simply" want and love Elijah—at all. Because it wasn't simple. Sean wasn't sure he was equal to this monumental task, to the risk of rejecting the truths that his religion and society had been throwing at him ever since he fastened a gold cross around his neck and took the Holy Communion as a servant of the Lord. He was reminded of a parable he had often recited to the young native children who were almost ready to convert and receive baptism. He wasn't sure where it had come from, precisely, but it rang true now.

A man comes to the bank of a wide, rushing river. A bridge crosses this river, but it is made up only of a plank, less than the width of the man's foot. He hesitates, but he is being pursued by demons and vicious beasts that are close at his back. At the opposite bank, a man—who in the parable represents Jesus—stands, calling him to cross. "Do not be afraid, my child," the man on the other bank says. "The river is wide and angry, but the beasts that plague you are far more frightening. Have faith in me, and you will succumb neither to the river of doubts and temptations, nor to the demons that try to crush your spirit." The man listens to Jesus, and he crosses the plank—he believes. As he walks, the task becomes easier, and the plank goes wider. At the other side, he is welcomed with open arms not just by Jesus, but by all the heavenly hosts.

When Sean had used this parable, the meaning was quite obvious. The man on the other side is Jesus, and the river is worldly temptation and doubts in Christ's love. The demons are minions of Satan, trying to goad the righteous man into fear and keep him from joining his brothers in heaven. However, now as Sean considered this parable, he saw it differently.

The man Sean pictured now was not Jesus, but Elijah. The rivers were temptation of a different kind—temptation to accept religious beliefs without questioning, to follow the ministers back in England who had counseled him. Their counsel, he realized now, was given maliciously to an uneducated young man with a hard lot in life, but he didn't recognize it for what it was at the time. But these ministers used their supposed superior knowledge and understanding of the Lord to teach him that his love—a love that felt right and true in his heart—was wrong. The demons, Sean realized now, were the ministers themselves, the entire Church perhaps, and those who make judgments on earth before God is given a chance to in heaven. These men, these demons in priests' clothing, were cautioning Sean not to make the leap, not to trust Elijah or the pure love whose seed he felt in his heart, and rather to cling to the safety of his profession and interpretations of the Scriptures that he had never questioned to any great extent. They stood at his back, cautioning and discouraging him… and Sean leapt.

Elijah gasped aloud as he was yanked from his chair, fearing the worst, and then gasped louder, the sound swallowed by Sean's lips as he took Elijah's face in his hands from across the table and pressed them to Elijah's own. The older man wasted no time, licking Elijah's lips and requesting entrance, then plundering Elijah's mouth with his tongue when it was granted.

Years fell away like sand through mortal fingertips, and Sean knew exactly what to do. The feel of flexing muscle under his fingertips was familiar, the slight bite of rough stubble on his chin comforting. Forgetting the food, he stepped to the side of the small table, still leaning forward to keep his lips on Elijah's, and met the slighter man halfway. Their bodies pressed together and now it was Sean's turn to let out a gasp, for it was so right, so obvious—he had been led astray, not by his sexuality but by the hypocrites who tried to teach him that Christ loved him but not the actions that he was drawn to in his heart, men who wouldn't know the true form of Christ's love if it were to hit them on the head. He moaned from utter joy as he wrapped his arms around Elijah's waist, touching every inch he could reach, worshipping the boy who showed him the true meaning of love.

Elijah's kiss felt more holy than a prayer, his lips sweeter than the wine of communion, and Sean's heart was glad and filled with thanks. For the first time in years, he knew without a doubt that he was doing the right thing. "I want you," he whispered against Elijah's lips, confirming what Elijah had been hoping for this evening. Elijah smiled, not innocent but somehow pure, and Sean sent up a prayer.

_Thank you Father, for showing me the true path of love and understanding. I won't leave it again._ As Elijah brushed his hair back from his face, pulled away and looked deep into his eyes, Sean knew that this time he could keep his promise.

Sean was no longer afraid.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex, pretty much. Well, not quite. Cause I'm a tease. You'll see.

Late in the third afternoon, Viggo and Dominic reached the native settlement.

For Dominic, it was anti-climatic in a way. The natives were extremely kind to them, especially when Viggo introduced himself in their own tongue. From what Viggo gave him by way of translation, Dominic gathered that the people here knew Viggo's name, and had heard of the protection he had brought for the children of other tribes by offering them a place in the white community. Though they were cautious around white people, especially the English and Scottish, they had heard that Viggo respected their native customs and traditions and brought them hope.

They agreed to host Viggo and his young traveling companion, to allow them audience with the chief and other Elders of society, and to exchange news and gifts. This was a very positive reception, Viggo assured Dominic, and they couldn't have hoped for much more.

As the women of the community prepared dinner, Dominic and Viggo were able to look around the settlement and see how everything was arranged.

Dominic was particularly surprised to see a few women working on building one of the stick-and-mud houses the natives slept in, until Viggo explained to him that work was divided differently here and women were responsible for the home. Because some men had more than one wife, the wives were responsible for their own homes and children, where the men would be responsible for hunting, building canoes, and some other forms of labour.

Dominic noticed that the women were very physically strong as a result, and even the children seemed used to performing certain tasks that would never have been delegated to them in a white community.

As they walked around, Dominic took it all in with wide eyes, processing Viggo's explanations along with his observations and trying to put together a picture in his head of how this society worked.

Dinner was a grand affair, and Dom felt more content than he had in weeks, sitting around a huge bonfire with a full stomach as he watched the natives talk amongst themselves, many smiling and sharing embraces with their kin. The society was very close-knit, Viggo explained, partly due to the division of labour he had described earlier. Elderly members of the community, as well as children, were revered, and ill or infirm members were protected and provided for by the community at large. The structure, though very unlike English society, wasn't all that unlike the Moravian structure of Bethlehem, and Dominic recognized common elements both in his observations and what Viggo taught him.

However, he was at the same time fascinated to watch the natives talking in their unfamiliar tongue, and especially shocked to watch the women, who did not wear anything to cover their breasts but occasional jeweled necklaces for the wives of the chief. The men, too, went without shirts, and Dominic was embarrassed to note his gaze drifting repeatedly to their bare chests, some streaked with a kind of paint, and a couple pierced with thin bone.

Somewhat to Dominic's relief after his unsettling dream of Viggo and Elijah in the fire the previous night, there were no ceremonial dances or odd chanting. It wasn't time for the harvest or a special feast day, Viggo explained when Dominic casually asked him about the elaborate rituals he had heard stories about. Such rituals, whose descriptions had filtered into white society and to Dominic's ears, took place only on certain days of the year.

Today being a fairly average day, Dominic and Viggo were led a couple of hours after sundown to a lodging made of wood and mud and bid a good night's rest. Their horses were tied up outside the settlement and would be cared for. Dominic was well-fed and his curiosity was satisfied, so he bid Viggo good night and curled up under his blanket, letting the steady breathing of his mentor a foot away lull him to sleep.

 

A few hours into the night, Dominic was awoken by a pressing need to relieve his bladder. The dwelling in which they slept was completely dark, but when he moved the skin covering the doorway to the side, he found that the moon was beautiful and almost full, covering the sleeping settlement with its pale blue light.

The public areas were almost empty, the tribesmen and women sleeping in their lodgings, which were built in clusters all around the central area of the fire and public buildings. There were a few men sitting around the fire to watch its progress and guard against intruders, but they ignored Dominic, evidently guessing his purpose. Choosing a path to the east, Dominic headed towards the woods for a private spot to do his business, and found a wide tree, which suited his purposes nicely.

Lowering his nightshift again, Dominic picked his way back along the path he had found towards the hut where he and Viggo were staying, but was surprised to hear what sounded like a pained cry from one of the dwellings near the path. For a moment, Dominic paused, not sure what to do—if a man were hurting his wife, which seemed the most likely explanation within one of these buildings so late at night, it was hardly his place to interfere. In Bethlehem, the community did punish such domestic incidents, but Dominic also knew that minor conflicts were often ignored by the Christian authority, and he had no idea what tribal laws would dictate in this case.

Nevertheless, Dominic was curious, and could not completely ignore what he heard, so he crept cautiously to the side of the lodging, finding a small hole in the wall between branches that was not properly patched with mud, possibly due to weather damage. Squatting by the hole, Dominic looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching, and then drew closer, peering inside.

Dominic's breath caught in his throat when he saw the inside of the dwelling—a young boy, a little younger than himself, was positioned on his hands and knees, in profile to Dominic. It was quite dark inside, but a bit of moonlight crept in around the sides of the skin door flap, and Dominic could tell that the boy was entirely naked. The same was also true of a man, perhaps thirty years old, on his knees behind the youth, his hands grasping the boy's hips.

Dominic hardly had time to process the situation—was this the coupling Viggo had spoke of, and if so, why was the boy functioning as the woman rather than the man?—before the youth cried out again. Dominic wondered if he should do something; should intervene. After all, tribal custom or not, the boy was clearly in pain—the man was _penetrating_ him, and though Dominic had gathered that was what Viggo meant in his explanation, he didn't really want to believe it. However, before Dominic could make up his mind, the older man changed his angle slightly, thrust deeper into the boy's body, and the boy moaned aloud, not in pain but in pleasure.

Dominic's eyes went wide, and he knew he should draw back, run back to Viggo and try to forget what he had seen in favour of some sleep, but he couldn't. He couldn't look away from this sight, from a coupling that was—he now had to admit—beautiful. The youth's moans became more frequent as the man's arm slid around the youth's chest, pulling him backwards so that the boy's back aligned with the man's chest. Dominic gulped hard when the man bent his head, capturing the boy's lips in a kiss that was returned with passionate vigour, and from this angle Dominic could now clearly see the boy's penis—hard, dark with desire—sliding back and forth within the older man's fist.

Dominic's thoughts turned to his own hand, the morning before, stroking back and forth of its own accord as he stared at Viggo's muscled back, and then another thought came to him, unbidden but stubborn, not willing to dissipate. What if it hadn't been his hand, but Viggo's? What would Viggo's hand feel like, scarred and calloused with years of hard work, sliding back and forth on his cock as this native man's did on the boy?

As Dominic watched the boy's body tense, the boy's scream swallowed by the man's lips, a thin fluid leaking through the man's fingers, he realized with horror that his own cock was rock hard.

Dominic marveled at the tenderness of the older man as he came, then lowered the youth down to the pallet on the floor, whispering words of love in a tongue Dominic did not understand, but knew the intent of. The youth's face was content, his expression blissful and sated as the man stroked his hair and his back, clearly caring for the boy beyond the immediate animal act.

Dominic felt his chest tighten with jealousy, with a desire to feel that same tenderness coupled with carnal passion. He felt the waves of jealousy increase as he pictured the Viggo and Elijah of his dream, locked in a passionate kiss, some otherworldly magic protecting them from the flames that consumed them. Dominic shot to his feet, tugged stubbornly on his shift, and hurried back to his own pallet.

 

_ The sounds of the night were amplified in Dominic's ears—the hooting of a night owl, the rustling of the wind through the leaves—as he sank to his knees once again on the dusty ground, scattered with pine straw. He fitted his eye once again to the crack, and watched as the man took his young love, this time closer to where Dominic sat, so that he could see everything. _

_He saw the way the man's hand threaded through the boy's hair, the way his other palm stroked the boy's chest, the way the boy moaned with complete abandon, surrendering himself to his desires. _

_ Dominic watched. And as he watched, he let one of his own hands drift, up his naked thigh and underneath the coarse linen of his shift. He moaned, softly, as his fingers brushed thick curly hair, but the man and the boy did not hear him, caught up in their passion as they were. _

_His hand curled purposefully around the stiff organ that was its destination, his other hand scrabbling ineffectually at the dirt, holding him up on hand and knees as he tried to press closer to the hole in the wall, twigs scratching his face._

_ "Beautiful, aren't they?" _

_ Dominic gasped, felt his hand instinctively speed up, pushed back unconsciously against the form suddenly pressed against his rear, straddling his calves, gently stroking his back. He recognized the words from his dream, but the accent was different. Not Scottish this time, the voice was soft and American; familiar. He felt hard flesh press against his buttocks, and moaned wantonly as a strong hand pulled him up, flush against the hard planes of a muscled chest. He watched as the peephole transformed to a full window before his eyes, the boy in front of him mirroring his posture against his mentor as Dominic's head dropped back against his own mentor's shoulder. _

_ "Viggo," he whispered, hoarsely, as a rough hand slid around his penis, clasping his own hand, then gently brushing it aside. _

_ "Yes, Dominic. My beautiful Dominic." Dominic sighed as Viggo's other hand left his chest, tracing down his side until Dominic was shivering uncontrollably. He felt that hand wrap around his own, hanging limply at his side and stained with dirt, and turned his head just in time to see Viggo's lips close around his fingers, kissing earth and flesh at once, sealing their fate with a silent benediction. _

_"Look again," Viggo murmured against Dominic's ear._

_ Dominic turned, and gasped, as the native couple was gone, replaced by duplicates of himself and Viggo, moving in passion before his eyes as Dominic groaned. His other self, caught in Viggo's fiery embrace, moaned in an echo of his own non-verbal plea, and Dominic screamed as he felt a dull push from behind. Viggo's rough fingers slid over his right nipple as Viggo's cock opened him, laying him bare and vulnerable. Dominic bucked back, moaning, watching what was happening as it happened, taken and witnessing the taking._

_ "Viggo, Viggo, Viggo…" he murmured, desperately, his hips canting in an impossible rhythm. So close…_

"Viggo!" Dominic felt himself come, hard, hips still thrusting into his own hand, a split second before he felt lucidity dawn, along with the morning light. His eyes opened, fearing the worst, and immediately locked with Viggo's—vibrant blue and intent. Hungry.

Dominic gasped.

Dominic moaned.

 

Seventy miles from the Allegheny River Indian settlement where Dominic and Viggo were spending the night, Elijah arched his back, a silent cry caught in his throat. His lips were parted, his hair was matted to his face with sweat, and his fingers gripped the wooden rails of Billy's headboard as Sean sealed their union for the third time since the previous night.

As Sean slowly lowered himself down next to Elijah, the younger man sighed happily, curling himself into Sean's arms and snuggling close, tugging the flannel blanket up around their quickly cooling bodies in the morning air.

"Morning, beautiful."

Elijah smiled at the tender words, coupled with a soft kiss to his temple, and wrapped his arms tighter around Sean's waist, letting his eyes drift shut and hoping for a few more precious hours of sleep after quite a pleasant wakeup call.

"Good morning, indeed," he mumbled, his lips brushing Sean's chest.

"You know we have to go back as soon as possible. We'll be missed," Sean pointed out, as he stroked Elijah's back with his fingertips, his voice heavy with regret.

"So don't go back," Elijah mumbled, refusing to loosen his hold. "Let's run away together," he mumbled, sleepy with post-coital pleasure.

Sean sighed. "We can't do that, love. You don't just run away and expect everything to be okay. Where would we go?"

"To the woods. To the Indians. They'll take me in, I know. I'm a hard worker, and you can work with your hands, can't you? You're a strong man…" Elijah smiled, his eyes blinking open as he smoothed his hands over Sean's pectorals to emphasize his point.

"Yes, but I can't just run to an Indian village, Elijah… I don't know anything about their culture…"

"I'll teach you. Viggo can help."

"Viggo's happy in Bethlehem."

"And would be just as happy _out_ of Bethlehem, I suspect." Elijah groaned as he sat up, reluctantly admitting that the few hours of sleep he'd hoped for weren't happening. "Come, Sean. You want to be with me, don't you?"

Sean nodded eagerly, brushing his hand through Elijah's hair and trying to convey his acceptance of the situation. He didn't want to give up on what he and Elijah could have, he just wasn't sure how they could abandon the community they'd put so much into.

"Well then come with me, run away with me. You know we can't live within their rules, Sean. We'll be punished, or we'll have to hide all the time. I believe that you're a man of God," he mused, fingering the gold cross that Sean had slept in. "But I don't believe that you're a man of those hypocritical ministers and people who blindly follow what's told to them without bothering to consult and study the Scriptures themselves. You're better than that, Sean," Elijah insisted, kissing Sean briefly on the lips.

"I'm not telling you to give up on God," Elijah continued. "I haven't. But the natives do have religion, and I think they're quite nearer to the point. If you want to set up a ministry, do it in the backcountry, among the native peoples. I'll help you, I bet Viggo would help you. Dominic too, probably. The four of us could start something really worth fighting for, you know? I want to be able to discuss religion, to debate it. Viggo and I can help you learn the language, and you can spend the rest of your days teaching the young natives and talking to the Elders about your beliefs. Bring your Bible, Sean, I'm not telling you to forsake that—but why don't you be the first white man to teach love, forgiveness, the kind of acceptance that Jesus himself stood for? Be the first not to condemn men who love in their hearts, simply because the type of love they practice seems unusual. You're an intelligent man, and I want you to use your gifts. But you have to understand—as progressive as Bethlehem is, it still sees our love as a sin. And I can't stand for that."

Sean was silent for a long moment, still stroking Elijah's back as he contemplated his words. The lad had a point, certainly. But this would be a big leap, bigger even than accepting Elijah into his heart unconditionally as he had last night. This meant possible danger, a culture beyond anything in Sean's own experience. Could a poor labourer's son from England find love, enjoyment, and salvation all in one lifetime, and among strange peoples who lived in the woods thousands of leagues away from home? Sean wasn't sure.

"Please, Sean. For me," Elijah begged, and Sean sighed.

"If we do this, we have to really do it. We'll start out after breakfast, head to the settlement where Viggo and Dominic are. If we ride hard, we'll reach it in two days, and hopefully we can catch them while they're still there. Then we can decide what to do from there, all of us. We'll have to let the horses free, though. I'm not a thief, Elijah."

Elijah nodded happily. "That's fine, of course. If we leave with no crimes on our back, no one will come after us. They'll look, for a little while, but they'll have to give up eventually.'

"I just don't know if you realize what you're doing, lad. You put too much hope in me."

"Only as much as I think you should have in yourself," Elijah replied softly.

"I'm not an intelligent man, Elijah. You're wrong about that. I was born poor, I worked with my hands, I never was educated outside of what I leaned to become a minister…"

"But your heart is intelligent, Sean," Elijah interrupted, placing a small hand over the left side of Sean's chest. "Your experiences have made you stronger, much more than any formal education. I'm proud of you, so proud of you…" Elijah broke off, pressing kisses all over Sean's face, and when he finally pulled away there were tears in Sean's eyes.

"This isn't going to be easy, lad."

"Yeah, but was it ever really? I love you, and that's enough to give me strength."

Sean smiled, and took Elijah's face in his hands, delivering a long, slow kiss. "I love you as well, God help me, Elijah. You give me hope."

Elijah grinned and pressed a childish kiss to the bridge of Sean's nose. "That's all I could ask for. Now c'mon, you big oaf, let me up so I can make some breakfast."

"Oaf! I'll show you who you're calling oaf!"

Elijah's giggles echoed loudly in the clear autumn air, and Sean grinned wider than he had in a long time as he held Elijah under him, ready for whatever the world had in store next.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the author proves that she is, indeed, insatiable.

_ "Viggo!" Dominic felt himself come, hard, hips still thrusting into his own hand, a split second before he felt lucidity dawn, along with the morning light. His eyes opened, fearing the worst, and immediately locked with Viggo's—vibrant blue and intent. Hungry. _

_ Dominic gasped. _

_ Dominic moaned._

 

Dominic watched, transfixed, as Viggo crawled across the straw mat to Dominic's pallet, graceful as a panther, his eyes never leaving Dominic. Whatever explanation Dominic might have given for his errant moan caught in his throat when Viggo stopped, legs on either side of Dominic's, hands on his cheeks.

"Tell me, Dominic. All my other questions later, but tell me this," Viggo asked, his voice raspy and hoarse with—Dom realized with wide eyes—desire. "Do you want me?"

Dominic stared, processing the heat of Viggo's breath on his lips, the scratch of Viggo's fingers on his stubble, and the desire in Viggo's eyes. Unable to escape the fog of his dream or think about the consequences of what he was feeling towards Viggo, he nodded, leaning in as Viggo pressed their lips together in a kiss that was hot, utterly decadent, and thoroughly addicting.

"Oh God…Viggo," Dominic gasped as Viggo pulled away. "I don't… I mean I've never…"

"Shh. It's okay, it's okay," Viggo insisted, kissing both of Dominic's cheeks and his forehead and threading his fingers through Dominic's hair. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just want to touch you, want to kiss you… is that okay?"

"Yes… God, yes, I…"

Dominic's words were swallowed by Viggo's lips, giving Viggo a chance to think. He wasn't sure what had happened this morning, exactly. He wasn't sure why he had awoken to find Dominic stroking himself in his sleep for the second morning in a row, nor was he sure why he stayed where he was this time, lying next to Dominic, watching the young man touch himself as he dreamed. He wasn't sure why Viggo's name had been on Dominic's lips this morning, but he did know that with that shout, just as Dominic came, Viggo knew he wasn't going to be able to resist anymore.

Dominic was innocent, but he wanted this, Viggo knew now, and the temptation was too strong to deny. Viggo was rarely so impulsive, but this time he had to give in.

"You're sure, Dominic? You're sure you want this?" Viggo whispered as he pulled away again. "I have to be sure…"

"Yes," Dominic replied, a little more awake now. "I'm not really sure why I do, or what this means… but…"

"It's okay, Dominic. You don't have to…"

"No. I should tell you this. I… well I've never been interested in girls, you know, back in Germany or in Bethlehem. I know we're not supposed to have impure thoughts about women before we're married, but most of the other boys do; I've heard them talking about it."

"And you never had those thoughts?" Viggo asked, his expression patient, absently brushing Dominic's hair back from his face.

"No. I never had those thoughts at all. I mean, sometimes I would feel myself get hard, but not thinking about girls."

"Thinking about boys?"

"No… well not until recently."

"Tell me about it," Viggo encouraged, his fingers now kneading into the back of Dominic's neck.

"I had a dream," Dominic admitted, his tone a bit hesitant. "Last night, I… well after you told me, you know, about the men in the native communities, and about their relationships, I had a strange dream. I was standing in this circle, full of natives, and… well I saw you."

"What was I doing?" Viggo asked softly, gently pressing his lips to Dominic's neck.

"You were…well, you were… with Elijah. In the fire. You were chanting, this strange chant, like you were praying, and Elijah was too, and the two of you were somehow untouched by the flames."

"Were we…intimate?" Viggo asked, guessing the nature of the dream.

"Yeah. Well I mean, you weren't… having sex," Dominic explained with a blush. "But you kissed."

"And then what?" Viggo asked, his voice a little husky as he breathed in the scent of Dominic's skin.

"Well, Billy was there. And he was telling me that you loved Elijah, like a man loves a woman and I was… so jealous," he admitted. "I could see what he meant, and it made me so jealous."

"Elijah? You know that's not true, right?"

"Well, yeah," Dominic agreed with a sheepish smile. "I mean, I think I know that…" he revised, looking a bit uneasy.

Viggo laughed and pressed his lips to Dominic's again. "I've never been sexually attracted to Elijah, Dominic. I've been his mentor, a kindred spirit, but that's it."

"Oh. But you're my mentor," Dominic pointed out.

"I am. But I'd like to be more than that," Viggo admitted. "Why don't you finish telling me your dream, though?"

Dominic nodded, leaning into Viggo's comforting touch as he slid one arm around Dominic's waist, the other still stroking his cheek. "Well, after Billy told me that you and Elijah… loved each other… he made me admit that I wanted that, too. That I wanted you to love me. And then I started singing, in a native language, and you had replaced Billy and you were… touching me. And then you kissed me, and I woke up. And I realized that I wasn't singing the song, it was you, in real life. And I was hard."

Viggo smiled and nodded. "It's an old lullaby," he explained. "A wife of one of the shamans taught it to me. It's an ancient tune, and sometimes it comforts, and calms me." Viggo chose not to explain why he had needed to be calmed after waking that morning, what he had seen and heard. Dominic was already a bit skittish.

"It's a beautiful song." Dominic paused for a moment, closing his eyes and tipping his head back a bit as Viggo's fingers moved from his cheek to rake across his scalp. "Last night, I… I saw something," he admitted suddenly.

"What did you see?" Viggo asked in a soft tone, questioning rather than accusatory.

"I was walking to the woods to relieve myself, and on the way back I heard something. I thought it was a scream, you know, that someone was hurt."

"So you went to investigate?"

"Yeah. It was coming from a cabin, and I walked up to the wall, and I found a hole."

"And what did you see?" Viggo prompted.

"It was… well there were two men, inside, and they were… um…"

"Making love?" Viggo asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes. And I couldn't keep myself from watching them. I… liked, watching them. At first I thought the older man was hurting the younger man… I mean, he was, you know, inside him. And you said it was the other way around…"

"Well, usually," Viggo clarified. "But sometimes such a relationship doesn't evolve into marriage between a man and a woman. Occasionally, the two men stay together. It's not common, but it's also accepted when it does happen, and in that case it doesn't necessarily have to be the younger man making love to the older."

"Oh… so you think they were… in love?"

"They very well may be," Viggo agreed.

"Do you… I mean if we… can I…"

"Be the one on top?" Viggo asked.

"Yeah."

"Sure, if you'd prefer."

"I'm not sure," Dominic clarified. "I mean at first, I thought that, you know, being the one on the receiving end… it would be scary. I mean, the boy was screaming. But then, something shifted, and then he stopped screaming, and instead he was _moaning_. I mean, he really wanted what the man was doing to him, and the man was touching him, while he penetrated the boy, and…"

"It made you hard?" Viggo asked, noticing how Dominic's breathing quickened as he told his story.

Dominic nodded. "I had trouble getting to sleep after that, but when I did, I had another dream."

"Like the night before?"

"No, this time I was back outside, watching the man and the boy, and I started… touching myself. And then you were there, behind me."

"Was I touching you?" Viggo asked, his breathing speeding up as well as his hand drifted from Dominic's waist to his thigh.

"Yeah," Dominic agreed, also breathless. "And it felt so good, and you were whispering to me, and then we weren't watching the natives anymore, we were watching ourselves, I mean you were… making love to me… and I was watching it happen."

"And that's why you said my name?"

"Well, not exactly… you… well you entered me, while we were watching, and you made me feel so… loved, and also desperate, and needy… and then I woke up."

Dominic turned in Viggo's arms as he finished his story, and smiled when he found Viggo's eyes completely dark, his heart beating quickly.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Dom let his own eyes shift into soft focus, leaning in towards Viggo. "Let me make you feel good," he offered in a rough whisper, his hand sliding down Viggo's chest and continuing downwards as he engaged Viggo in another kiss.

 

Dominic's heart was pounding wildly, and he wasn't sure exactly what to do, but the sun was coming up quickly, and they would soon need to venture out-of-doors for breakfast. Taking a deep breath to steal his courage, he let himself concentrate on the carnal need that Viggo's kiss inspired in him as his hand slipped up under the shift. He gasped when he found warm, hard flesh under his palm, but Viggo's needy moan inspired him to continue.

"Oh God… Dominic…please…"

Dominic buried his own face in Viggo's neck, trying to hide the intensity of his own arousal as he wrapped his hand around Viggo's cock and stroked at a steady pace.

"Is that good?" Dominic whispered after a minute, anxious to please Viggo.

"Yes, God… harder, Dominic. Please, just a little more… oh God! That's it, that's…." Viggo's groan was absorbed into Dominic's mouth as he kissed the older man.

Dominic was sure something was wrong with his body, for he felt as if his blood was on fire, his skin was clammy, and he was already hard again despite his earlier release. The sound of Viggo's heavy breathing and the feel of the older man's chest rising and falling rapidly only served to heighten his arousal as Viggo finally moaned loudly around Dominic's tongue and a slippery liquid slid between his fingers.

"Viggo," Dominic whispered simply when they pulled apart, Viggo trying to catch his breath, both looking deeply into each other's eyes.

"May I…?"

Dominic nodded, hastily, as Viggo took his hand by the wrist and guided it to Dominic's own renewed erection, wrapping Dominic's fingers around it with his own and leading Dominic in a hasty up-and-down stroke. When all of the fluid coating Dominic's hand was absorbed, Viggo pushed it away and brought him expertly to the brink, his teeth scraping along the shell of Dominic's ear and nibbling at a spot just beneath the lobe on Dominic's neck. Dominic shivered, undone, and it didn't take long before it was inevitable.

"Now, Dominic. For me," Viggo whispered, and Dominic moaned, biting his lower lip to quiet himself, as he spilled into Viggo's hand.

By the time breakfast was prepared, Dominic's hunger was already satisfied.

 

The sun was low in the sky when Sean and Elijah finally made camp halfway between the two rivers, hoping to catch up with Viggo and Dominic by the end of the second day. Both men were exhausted by the time they fetched water, took care of the horses, and started a fire. They ate a simple supper of bread and fruit, with a little whisky for warmth from the flask Sean wore on his hip, and then spread out the flannel blanket they had brought in the pine straw to sleep.

Sean folded his hands behind his head where he lay on his back, silently naming the constellations he spotted between the trees. He had just identified the Big and Little Dippers and Orion's belt when he was assaulted by a mass of pale, horny, clumsy young flesh.

"Lad!" he half-protested as Elijah tried to hold Sean's arms down at his sides. "We need to sleep…"

"Well, consider this a sleeping tonic, then," Elijah replied cheekily before pressing his lips insistently to Sean's, his fingers making short work of the laces on Sean's breeches.

"Elijah," Sean protested again when Elijah's lips finally left his own. "We can't… we need…"

"This?" Elijah's eyes were bright as he fished a small glass phial from the canvas bag that lay next to him, stopped with a cork. He grinned and handed it to Sean.

"You stole Billy's olive oil?" Sean asked, incredulous.

"Borrowed it. Borrowed. For a good purpose. C'mon, Sean. I want you," Elijah said as he grabbed Sean's wrist and pressed Sean's hand to his own erection.

These words apparently destroyed any thread of resistance Sean had left, and with a growl he pounced on Elijah, who emitted a happy squeak as Sean finished the work on his breeches and then Elijah's. Elijah whimpered when Sean bent his legs back and popped the cork from the bottle, and he eagerly spread them further to offer his body to Sean's questing fingers.

"Jesus, lad… so _fucking_ tight…"

Elijah grinned widely at Sean's language and squeezed his inner muscles as Sean curled two fingers against his prostate. "I love it when you talk dirty," he confessed, and Sean rolled his eyes before engaging him in another kiss.

"You could tempt Satan into doing good, boy. It's a wonder I held out this long."

Elijah laughed merrily and then gasped as Sean entered his body with a third finger. "Christ, Sean… now, please!"  
"You little seducer… I should make you wait," Sean objected, again curling his fingers hard enough to make sparks explode behind Elijah's eyes, his back involuntarily snapping into an arch.

"Please!"

Sean growled again, failing to resist Elijah's impassioned pleas, and quickly slicking himself with a few strokes of the oil. Elijah moaned loudly in relief as Sean sunk home, his heavy bollocks slapping lewdly against Elijah's arse.

"Christ!" Elijah gasped, and Sean grinned and executed a long stroke that had Elijah shivering in need. Smiling mischievously, he bent his head to suck on a pale spot of flesh at the back of Elijah's thigh. Elijah groaned in reaction and grabbed twin handfuls of Sean's arse, urging him to thrust harder.

"Jesus, lad. Such a seductive little devil. How did I ever resist you?" Sean asked rhetorically as he grabbed Elijah's face in both hands and kissed him soundly.

"Sean! God, please!" Elijah begged when Sean pulled away, Elijah's lower lip dragging reluctantly between his teeth.

"Please what, lad?" Sean's hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his biceps standing out in sharp relief as he braced himself on his hands, thrusting at a frantic pace.

"Touch me!" Elijah gasped, and Sean relented almost immediately, leaning back slightly to allow room for his hand to curl around Elijah's erection and earning a moan of relief from Elijah. "Yes! Yes yes yes yes…"

Elijah bucked hard, his muscles tensing in a shuddering release around Sean's cock, and the older man could no longer hold back, pinning Elijah to the ground with his lips and hands as he shouted in the joy of his climax.

"Damn," Elijah exclaimed in a shuddering breath as they collapsed to the blanket together side by side. Sean draped his arm loosely around Elijah's body as he kissed him softly, his fingertips trailing over Elijah's hip and side to prompt a full-body shudder from the younger man.

"You undo me, lad," Sean admitted in a whisper to the cool night air. Elijah smiled, triumphant, and pressed a soft kiss to Sean's shoulder.

"Well, I'd say that's progress," Elijah whispered, grinning as he succumbed to sleep in Sean's arms.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sex and... other stuff. Also known as, our heroes reunite and ride off into the sunset.

After several days of productive talks with some of the native leaders in their host settlement, Viggo felt that they were making a fair amount of headway into the community. The natives were fascinated by the clothes Viggo and Dominic wore, the languages they spoke (as they sometimes would switch into German by habit), and the stories they told of the Bethlehem settlement.

Although they were skeptical about the white men's religion, they were curious, and Viggo had just arranged for a couple of men from the community to ride back with himself and Dominic to observe Bethlehem for themselves when there was a bit of a commotion to one side of the village's borders.

"What's going on?" Dominic asked, trying to stand on tiptoe and peer over people's heads as they walked quickly towards the gathering of natives at the edge of the village.

"They're saying more white men have come," Viggo answered, frowning. "I'm afraid it might be Scots, but maybe I can convince them to go."

Dominic frowned and held tight to Viggo's shoulder as he pushed his way through the people gathered in a small cluster at the border. He wasn't really in the mood for a confrontation with a group of Scotsmen, though Billy hadn't seemed all that bad. When they were almost clear of the crowd, however, Viggo surged to the front, and Dominic was quite worried, wondering why Viggo had let go of him until he finally pushed his way past the last tall native.

"Elijah! And… Minster Bean?" Dominic looked between the two of them, quite confused, as Elijah ran forward and threw his arms around Dominic, and—somewhat surprisingly—smacked a big wet kiss on his cheek. "Elijah, aren't you supposed to be banned from seeing me?" Dom asked under his breath as Viggo and Sean hugged, the blonde minister seeming much more relaxed than usual as he embraced his friend.

"Nah, don't worry about that now!" Elijah insisted, cheerily. "I've got Sean all worked out," he continued with a wink, and Dominic just stared, wide-eyed. _Sean? Since when are those two on a first name basis?_

"Dominic! Good to see you again, lad!" Dominic's eyes remained frozen in their disbelieving stare as Sean came over and hugged him as well, the natives giving them a bit of room for their greetings. Over Sean's shoulder, he could see Viggo hugging Elijah and whispering something into Elijah's ear that made him laugh gleefully, his head tipping back in delight as he leaned into Viggo's embrace. Dominic tried very hard not to be jealous.

"Give me a minute, and I'll explain the situation and ask if we can go to the hut where Dominic and I have been staying to talk," Viggo suggested, turning to the senior most tribe member present to do so. While he talked, Dominic eyed Elijah suspiciously.

"You're glowing," Dominic whispered, noticing Sean watching the two of them but not attempting to interfere. "And so is he."

Elijah grinned, widely. "I knew you'd start to figure things out on your own, Dommie! I had faith in you," he replied with a broad slap on Dominic's back.

"What did you do, seduce him?" Dominic asked, disbelieving.

Elijah barked out a laugh. "Ha! You could say that, but it wouldn't be entirely accurate."

"But you're…?"

"Intimate? Yeah. Scandalised?" Elijah asked, grinning at Dom before giving Sean a quick wink.

"Well, no…" Dominic responded, carefully. He wasn't sure how much to admit about his relationship with Viggo before Viggo himself had a chance to participate in the discussion. After all, he knew Viggo was attracted to him, and they had indulged in the pleasures of the flesh for several nights now, but they had not yet made love, nor had they discussed exactly what their relationship with each other was. Fortunately, Dominic was saved from explaining when Viggo returned to the group, leading them towards their little hut.

"Have a seat," Viggo offered when they were all four inside. "Sorry there's not much other than the floor, but…" He trailed off as he and Dominic sat, instinctively, so close that they were touching thighs, and then quickly scooted away. Dominic's eyes flickered to the bedrolls that they were sitting on—the bedrolls that had been pushed together so that the two men could warm each other in the night—and blushed deeply.

"Oh my God, Sean! You chastised me so much… and now look at them!" Elijah grinned as he gestured to Viggo and Dominic, both blushing now and looking more than a bit uncomfortable. "Don't try to deny it, either of you. It smells like sex in here."

Dominic's eyes went wide at that statement, but Viggo just laughed. "So it does. Forgive my hospitality; if I'd known you were coming I'd have washed the bedding in the stream. But that brings me to the two of you," he continued, arching an eyebrow. "I certainly didn't expect to find you here, and together, nonetheless…"

Now it was Sean's turn to blush, and Elijah just laughed. "He's finally come to his senses, Vig," Elijah explained. "And so we've come to the two of you for help, and a proposition. Though now I think you may be even more likely to take it…"

"What kind of a proposition?" Viggo asked, looking sceptical.

"I can't stay in Bethlehem, Vig," Sean answered. "You know that."

Viggo frowned, but nodded, understanding Sean's meaning.

"Elijah's right, I… well I can't pretend that I'm someone I'm not, anymore. But I'm afraid that means I can't stay. They'll never accept me as I am, and… well we're hoping the two of you will join us, Viggo. We're going to start a ministry, Elijah and I. We want to go further into the backcountry, where we won't be looked for, and try to do good work among the natives. I know it'll be harder the further we go, but I think it's worth it, to have a chance to spread the word of God to those people… and not necessarily the same word they're teaching in Bethlehem," Sean admitted.

Viggo smiled, broadly, and to Dominic's surprise crawled forward and gathered the bigger man into his arms. "I'm proud of you, Sean," he whispered, and Sean grinned, holding Viggo tighter.

"So you're with me?" Sean asked as Viggo pulled away.

"I'm with you. You know I am, Sean, you don't even have to ask. Dominic, however…"

"I'm in," Dominic interrupted in a tone that brokered no argument. "Where Viggo goes, I go." He smiled a little nervously, but was reassured by Viggo's much broader smile as he laced his fingers through Dominic's and squeezed.

"Good. When do we leave?" Viggo asked.

"As soon as possible," Elijah answered. "Tomorrow morning, if we can. There will be more brethren and sisters to help these people, but we need to get where they won't find us, so that by the time they think to search, our trail is already cold."

"Fine with me," Viggo agreed. "Dominic, are you okay with this? Out of all of us, you've got the most to lose."

Dominic frowned. "How do you figure that? I've only lived in Bethlehem for a few months; you and Sean have been there since the start of the community. You're all I've got in Bethlehem, Viggo. If you go, I go."

"Dominic, this could be dangerous. Living in the wild, or even on a settlement, isn't the life you're accustomed to."

"I haven't had a simple life, Viggo," Dominic replied, his tone firm. "You think it was _easy_ to live in Bavaria? Never to see my family again? All my life I've gone from teacher to teacher, trying to decide who was best to follow, who could help me find the path to God that my mother wanted for me. I've chosen you, against all I've been taught before you. I've accepted you as a mentor, and as a friend, because I saw something in you—someone kind and gentle, someone who respects nature, and someone who has a belief strong enough to allow for questioning and still come out on top—so don't you dare say I've made the wrong choice."

Dominic's cheeks were pink with the exertion of his little speech, and for a moment there was silence in the hut, before Elijah broke into a wide grin.

"Well he just told _you_ how it is!" he exclaimed gleefully, thumping Viggo on the back. "We'll leave first thing in the morning."

 

After everyone finished catching up and took the communal evening meal, Sean and Elijah were shown to another guest hut, near Viggo and Dominic's. It wasn't long before they were both naked underneath the blankets, Elijah's small hands coaxing Sean to his back.

"I want to be inside you," Elijah murmured, licking the slightly salty taste of Sean's skin just behind his ear.

Sean shuddered and gripped Elijah by the waist, pressing their arousals together. "I haven't… not in a long time," he admitted in a whisper. "Do we still have oil?"

"Of course," Elijah replied, sitting up still astride Sean and leaning over to rummage through his leather bag, Sean moaning when the movement shifted the alignment of their erections. "I'll be gentle," Elijah promised, stroking a single finger down Sean's cheek as he lay the phial down within easy reach.

As the finger traced down his jaw and almost slid away, Sean turned his head quickly and caught it in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he unexpectedly sucked on the single digit. "Oh, Jesus," Elijah growled, watching Sean's eyes, lit only by the thin rays of moonlight streaming through cracks in the hut but glittering nonetheless.

"How can you think of Jesus at a time like this?" Sean asked, jokingly, as he let Elijah's finger slide away.

"What can I say? You bring me near to heaven," Elijah replied with a cheeky grin, rolling his hips hard.

Sean groaned half in pleasure and half in disgust at the joke. "You're incorrigible, lad."

"I know," Elijah agreed, still grinning. "Want to teach me a lesson, old man? I think I may have done wrong, Minister Bean. I've been having very naughty thoughts," Elijah "confessed," his lips forming an exaggerated pout as his voice took on a mockingly innocent tone.

"You dirty little scoundrel," Sean growled, nipping at Elijah's ear and then reaching for the phial, handing it to Elijah when he pulled the cork out. "Wasn't there something about you making love to me? Prepare me."

"I love it when you get all demanding," Elijah joked, but he did as he told, sliding off of Sean's thighs and kneeling between them instead, tilting Sean's legs apart and back to get the best angle as he slicked his fingers with oil. Sean looked unusually vulnerable in this position, and Elijah quickly ceased his teasing, leaning forward instead to give his lover a soft, searching kiss as his warm fingers slowly breached the older man's entrance.

"Oh God," Sean gasped, tilting his hips up as he broke the kiss. "I had forgotten how strange this part feels."

"Strange, but good, right?" Elijah whispered, his eyes almost nervous for a moment.

Sean smiled to reassure his young lover and reached up, brushing an errant strand of hair away from Elijah's eyes. "Yes, good. Just a little deeper, lad, you'll find what you're looking for…. oh God! There!"

Elijah smiled as Sean's back arched and bent his head, sucking and placing little love bites along Sean's collarbone. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against Sean's skin as he added another slick finger. "The most idealistic statues of Greece and Rome couldn't compare to the way you look, like this, arching under me," he continued, his lips now moving to Sean's chest, his lips latching momentarily onto a nipple. "But I'd never let anyone sculpt you, Sean. You're mine, you understand? This is ours."

Sean gasped, trembling, as Elijah's fingers curled and stroked at a steady rhythm, rubbing incessantly at the pleasure spot inside his body. "Yours, lad, yes… God, I need… I need to feel you, lad," he admitted as Elijah's lips moved to his abdomen, the tip of a pink tongue darting into his navel.

"Then feel me you shall," Elijah promised with another grin up at Sean, his chin now resting on Sean's hipbone with Sean's erection pointing up almost comically next to his cheek. With one last twist of his fingers, Elijah knelt up and urged Sean's legs back further, positioning himself at the best angle he could. "It still might hurt a little…"

"I can take it. Now, Elijah," Sean insisted, and Elijah was powerless to say no to that, moving forwards in one hard, achingly slow push. He stopped about half the way in, letting Sean catch his breath, and leaned forwards to brush a kiss to Sean's forehead.

"You're doing wonderfully, love. Just relax," Elijah encouraged. "Do you feel me? Feel how much I want you?"

Sean moaned and shifted his legs slightly, his heel resting between Elijah's shoulder blades. "I feel so exposed, lad. But good. I want you deeper," Sean insisted, and Elijah groaned as Sean's hands cupped his arse, pushing him all the way in.

"Christ, Sean. I don't know how long I can hold on," Elijah admitted, sucking at a random spot on the curve of Sean's shoulder. "You're so tight, it's like a vise gripping me…"

"Then move, boy. I can take it. I can take _you_," Sean added, his eyes glinting dangerously, and Elijah moaned as he pulled halfway out, sinking back in again with a cry.

"Need you," Elijah gasped, tugging up on Sean's legs so that his own thighs served as a brace for the backs of Sean's. "Need you to come with me, Sean, please," he added, sliding one hand between their bodies to provide Sean some relief as the other braced his body weight to the right of Sean's head.

"Just a little more lad…. oh… that's it… Jesus!" Sean cried as he came, back arching, his pulsing cock pressing up into Elijah's stomach and coating pale skin with his seed. Elijah moaned, seeing the dark desire in Sean's eyes and feeling his muscles spasm around his cock, and gave in, biting Sean's shoulder to stifle a cry.

They lay, sated, in each other's arms for several minutes, before Elijah reached between them and wiped his hand across his own stomach, raising it to his mouth and licking experimentally before eagerly cleansing his hand of the rest of the fluid.

Sean groaned, half-jokingly covering his eyes against the sight as he stretched out on his back. "A man can only see an image such as that a few times in his life and live to tell the tale," he mumbled, and Elijah just laughed, snuggling up next to his lover like an overgrown kitten.

"You know you love me," he chided, nudging Sean's cheek playfully with his nose.

Sean smiled and ruffled Elijah's hair, pulling the young man firmly to his chest. "Aye. That I do."

 

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you earlier."

Viggo shook his head, his hand brushing over the curve of Dominic's collarbone. They were naked, but for the moment were simply lying on the pallet together, talking in whispered tones. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were right, as well. I don't know what your life was like, and I have no reason not to treat you as an equal, just because I've gone through some tough times."

"But I'm young. And I'm not very experienced, and you have reason to worry about me. I… well I like that you worry about me," Dominic admitted, blushing a bit as he smiled.

Viggo too smiled at this, and placed a soft kiss to Dominic's breastbone. "I do. I care about you, Dominic, and it's been a long time since I've cared for someone in this way."

"You and Elijah never…" Dominic lowered his eyes, slightly embarrassed.

"No. I've told you before, Dominic. Nothing between us. Ever. Elijah needs a challenge, and I'm not much of one. Nor have I ever been attracted to him in quite the same way I am for you."

"Do you find me attractive?" Dominic asked, his tone strikingly blunt. Viggo raised his eyebrow, but it was a serious question, and Dominic looked worried as he sat up, shrugging off the blanket, and leaned on one hand, his torso stretched and displayed for Viggo's eyes. Viggo smiled.

"I find you breathtakingly beautiful, Dominic. It takes more self control than you could ever imagine not to simply make love to you, right now."

"Then why don't you?" Dominic asked, his voice husky, scooting closer to Viggo and swinging one leg over his hips to sit on Viggo's thighs.

Viggo's eyes widened as he gripped Dominic's waist. "Are you serious?" His voice was tinged with hope, and more than a little desire.

"Yes." Dominic leaned in, his lips just brushing Viggo's before he detoured to the side, coming to Viggo's ear. "Do you want me, Viggo? Do you want me to go on this journey with you and to be with you for the foreseeable future?"

Viggo nodded, shivering as Dominic bit his earlobe. "Yes…"

"Then show me that you want me as much as I want you. I want you as I dreamed, behind me as I kneel for you, entering me as I cry your name."

"Jesus, Dominic," Viggo gasped, sliding his hand up to Dominic's lower back, the other cradling his shoulder as he laid Dominic gently to the pallet on his back. "You undo me, my beautiful boy."

Dominic exhaled in a long sigh as Viggo knelt over him, leaning down to encircle a nipple with his teeth. He pulled lightly and Dominic groaned, then he wrapped a hand around Dominic's cock until the boy gasped.

"I must prepare you," Viggo warned as he knelt between Dominic's thighs. "I wish I had something to ease the way, but I'm afraid I don't want to leave you even for a moment to search for oil. I suspect you will enjoy this however, just spread your thighs a bit, please."

Dominic furrowed his brow, unsure of what Viggo planned to do to him, but obeyed, letting his legs fall open in a somewhat vulnerable position as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Viggo smiled reassuringly at his lover, stroking his thighs, before his head lowered and his thumbs gently parted Dominic's flesh.

"Oh!" Dominic cried as the warm, wet muscle of Viggo's tongue stabbed at the entrance to his body. He resisted at first, his fists clenching, but Viggo lapped determinedly around the tight pucker, and eventually Dom's muscles began to relax, his voice softening as Viggo licked his way inside. "Ohh… Viggo… oh Christ Almighty… don't stop that, please…"

If Dominic could've seen Viggo's face now, he would've registered the slight smirk in his features and the mirthful light in his eyes. As it was, he could see only the part of Viggo's hair and the corresponding part of his own thighs, his erection bobbing lewdly against his stomach.

"Oh God, Viggo, _bitte, bitte_…" Dominic found himself unable to halt his own moans as he writhed in place, his hips pushing towards Viggo's tongue as he succumbed to the foreign sensation. Though not inherently pleasurable in a primal fashion, it was extremely intimate, and the insistent moist pressure encouraged Dominic to relax and spread his legs even wider.

Dominic gasped loudly when a long finger slid in next to Viggo's tongue, eased by the moisture as Viggo continued to lick around the place where Dominic's muscle stretched at its opening. The tip of Viggo's tongue flitted inside at intervals around the finger, continuing to loosen the stubborn muscles, and then Dominic cried out in surprise as Viggo's finger curled suddenly, stimulating a response throughout his body.

"Again!" Dominic yelled, bearing down with his inner muscles unconsciously. Viggo's finger slipped further down in reaction. Viggo laved a second finger with his tongue, twisting the first as Dom writhed and wriggled, and then pushed it steadily inside as he knelt up, grinning at Dominic. "Oh God," Dominic moaned.

His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, trembling as he bucked unconsciously. Viggo knelt between his thighs, the other hand smoothing from knee to thigh to hip. "Beautiful," he murmured, his hand coming to a rest on Dominic's stomach. "_Schöne Junge_. Look how much you can take, Dominic. How well you take it for me."

"More," Dominic begged as Viggo curled both fingers at once and then spread them apart, scissoring his fingers inside the tight passage. "I can take more," he insisted, and Viggo smiled.

"I can't wait to find out," he whispered, lips feathering across Dominic's ear. "Roll onto your stomach," Viggo urged, drawing his fingers carefully out of Dominic's body.

Dominic obeyed orders eagerly, landing on his stomach with his elbows in front of his body. Viggo tugged up on his torso a bit, adjusting his position so that his knees were underneath him, and then helped him spread out with his fingers, lining up and exhaling long and slow.

"Last chance to change your mind," Viggo whispered, dropping his head to Dominic's spine as he breathed in the scent of the calm before the storm.

Dominic's whole body tensed, then relaxed. He matched his breathing consciously to Viggo's and arched his back, his eyelids falling shut, the memory of his dream thick and hazy on his mind.

"Do it," Dominic begged in a hoarse whisper.

Viggo pushed.

Dominic cried out.

Viggo pushed harder.

Dominic relaxed.

Viggo slipped in.

Dominic moaned.

"Jesus," Viggo breathed, reverent, his arm wrapped loosely around Dominic's middle and his breath moist on Dominic's back. Viggo's cheek, sharp with stubble, rested on Dominic's shoulder. Dominic forced himself to open his eyes and saw his own forearms, dusted with soft hair, the lines of the muscles tight as he braced himself.

"Just a moment," Dominic requested, softly, his forehead falling to his arms. Viggo kissed the knob at the top of his spine, the sweaty fine hairs at the base of his neck, and the angle of his left shoulder blade.

"Breathe," Viggo whispered, his hand sliding up flat-palmed to rest over Dominic's heart. Dominic felt the warmth of the skin at the centre of Viggo's palm pressing against his nipple, felt the jump of his pulse as if it were trying to leap into Viggo's hand. He forced his focus inwards, on his own body, and breathed slowly in, out. Slowly, slowly, muscle and tissue gave way and his body was welcoming Viggo, enfolding the pleasant intrusion with tightness and heat, entreating him to continue.

Viggo listened carefully to the signs of Dominic's body, and then on a hitch of Dominic's breath, he pulled out, halfway, the slow tense drag causing Dominic to shiver. "Please," Dominic whimpered, not knowing what he was asking for. Viggo pushed back in, a little faster this time, and their flesh met in a dull _smack._

Dominic threw his head back, arched, and pushed up on his hands, nearly unseating Viggo. His head fell to the crook of Viggo's shoulder as his hips shifted back and something inside settled, realigned. Dominic groaned, and cursed, and clutched at the blankets.

"God, yes, there," Viggo panted, encouragingly, now reassured that Dominic was okay and eager to fill him. Viggo bore his weight on one hand, his other coming to squeeze Dominic's shoulder and use it to thrust in small, precise strokes. Dominic moaned again, his own hips rocking in counterpoint to Viggo's, and Viggo growled and kicked Dominic's legs further apart with his knees.

Dominic was intently aware of the connections between their bodies—Viggo's calves pressing between his own, the fronts of his thighs rubbing against the backs of Dominic's, the sweat slick slide of skin between Viggo's chest and Dominic's back augmented by the coarse rasp of hair, the vise grip of Viggo's hand on his shoulder, the way Dominic's jaw occasionally brushed Viggo's cheek when he tilted it back just so, and of course the sparking slightly moist friction between Viggo's cock and his arse.

"Need… oh God… _Viggo!_" Dominic cried, only dully aware of the few clumsy strokes of Viggo's fist around his cock before he was coming, a sharp punch to the senses like having the wind knocked out of his lungs, his arse contracting and expanding and fluttering around Viggo's cock.

When Viggo came, it was strangely silent, the only evidence being the slight warm trickle Dominic could feel deep inside him, and a sharp intake of breath as Viggo stilled his movements. Dominic collapsed quickly to his elbows again, the sensation of Viggo pulling out much stranger than the entrance, and he frowned as Viggo dipped a cloth in a fresh water jug in the corner and gently swiped at Dominic's sore muscles.

When Viggo lay down next to Dominic, however, he smiled. Dominic smiled, and sucked hard on the lower lip that Viggo had clearly bitten to stifle his scream, a trickle of metallic liquid coating his tongue and bringing him back down to earth again.

_I love you,_ Dominic thought as Viggo's arms slid around his waist and caught him in a grounding embrace. He smiled against Viggo's lips, but did not say the words, for this was their blessing—he now had all the time in the world for words. Tonight was for moments.

 

In the morning, the four white men received a generous send off from the tribe. A large warm breakfast was prepared for them at dawn, and they were given food for their journey as well—flour for bread, a bit of smoked venison, and plenty of beans and corn, along with some salt and (thanks to Elijah's sweet innocent smiles and fumbling with the tribe's language) a small glass bottle of oil.

The travelers agreed to leave behind the Bethlehem horses, but the natives gave them four of their own, wild horses that they had tamed, as a loan until they found a settlement in which to live and could return them. Profuse thanks were given, and the party set out, Elijah gleefully trotting along at the front and Dominic carefully picking his way along the trail at the back.

They left the Alleghany quickly, and proceeded north and west. The country was mountainous, and travel was slow—the spent the night at the highest point and then headed down on the second day, picking through hill country and down into the flats.

The sun was just beginning to set when Dominic witnessed a sight that made him stop and draw in a breath. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. As they descended the last of the hills there was blue, as far as the eye could see, and though he knew there could be no ocean here, he was dumfounded.

"Lake Erie," Viggo explained with a soft smile, bringing his horse to a walk beside Dominic's. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

They made camp near the bank of this great expanse, and as Dominic reclined against Viggo's chest, across the fire from his dearest friends and miles away from the place of his birth, the rush of the water soothed him.

Dominic had finally come home.

* * *

_Translation Note: "Bitte" is the German word for please, and "Schöne Junge" means beautiful (or lovely, or pretty) boy._


End file.
